Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior
by Darth Yoshi
Summary: The sequel to the Apprentice
1. Prologue

Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior

By Christopher W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2002 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2002 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.

EPISODE II: THE WARRIOR 

**It is a dark time for the galaxy. The GALACTIC EMPIRE has a firm grip on the populated systems and the rebellion against EMPEROR PALPATINE is being threatened with being extinguished before it can even begin. Using a secret super weapon called the DEATH STAR, the EMPEROR intends on ruling through fear instead of decree.**

**With the JEDI KNIGHTS all but extinct, a plan has been devised by BAIL ORGANNA to have his daughter LEIA, the twin of LUKE SKYWALKER, trained in the JEDI arts by QUINLAN VOS, the only known member of the JEDI COUNCIL to have escaped the purges. To do so, though, puts the last remaining JEDI in grave danger of being discovered.**

**Elsewhere, GARM BEL IBLIS, a former senator from CORELLIA, has begun to put together a formal alliance of the various rebellions against the EMPIRE. Secretly funded by both ALDERAAN and CHANDRILLA, he hopes to soon rally many more worlds to his cause. **

**Now, MON MOTHMA, leader of the people of CHANDRILLA, is meeting with TALON KARDE, a businessman and smuggler, discussing a way to aid the growing REBELLION financially…**

Talon Karde smoothed his neatly trimmed beard and crossed his leg again, trying to remain nonchalant about the entire affair. The truth was that he was nervous, as this was his first meeting with so high an official in any world government. Mon Mothma's reputation preceded her like a blast of wind before a firestorm. Smuggling, Talon's principle enterprise now that he was working on his own, was not very welcome here, not being so close to Imperial Center. 

There was also the fact that this system was technically Black Sun territory and any business arrangements made here would eventually have to be approved by the local _vigo_ if he were to have any hope of doing his job unmolested. Right now, he couldn't afford to make any huge mistakes; he had everything riding on this venture. All of the money he had saved for the past decade, ever since he had begun work for his first organized criminal group, had been invested into his shipping company.

On the outside, Karde Enterprises was nothing more than a cargo hauling business. Behind closed doors and underneath false deckplates, however, is where the real profits were made. Unfortunately, those profits were not as high as he had hoped to realize once he became independent, but he was still relatively new at all of this and was working on his reputation.

"Mr. Karde," Mon Mothma said as she entered the suite, a warm and gracious smile on her face, "how kind of you to meet with me."

Talon stood up and accepted her outstretched hand. He placed a light kiss on it, something he was roguishly famous for, and returned her greeting. "I do not see how I could refuse such an invitation," he said. He looked her over quickly, making as many guesses about the woman as he could. He filed away each point in his mind for later comparison to what was actually known, just to see if he could still read people.

Her beauty had started to fade and the short hairstyle she sported made her look older than what he suspected she was. It was an act, of course, because her hand had been warm to the touch, indicating someone on the go, someone whose life was filled with adventure. 

The again, he supposed, maybe she was just warm all of the time.

Behind her stepped in someone entirely different. He recognized her immediately as Mothma's daughter, Mara, the product of an illicit affair the Chandrillian president had with Viceroy Bail Organna of Alderaan. She was stunning to look at, with deep green eyes and a mane of fiery red hair. She was dressed in a jumpsuit that left little to the imagination as to whether or not she was fully functional, as a tech friend of Talon's liked to say. 

Mon Mothma seemed to sense Talon's thoughts. "Mara, dear, please excuse us for a moment," she said. Mara seemed to be annoyed at being ordered out, but she complied easily enough. 

"You're daughter is quite fetching," Talon remarked.

Mon Mothma beckoned him to sit down. "Yes, well, she comes from strong blood lineage." They then engaged in small talk, mostly about how Talon had established his business and what planets had the toughest trade laws. 

"Ever since the Empire shut down both the Trade Federation and the Hutts, it has been very profitable for those of us in legitimate shipping," he added at the end.

Mon Mothma laughed. "Please, Mr. Karde, let us not…how do you say it…beat around the bush."

Talon's smiled remained but his eyes began to search the room for any secret doors that might open, revealing death clad in stormtrooper armor. Smuggling was a capital offense in the Empire.

Of course, all offenses carried a possible death penalty in the Empire, he mused. "I'm afraid I don't know exactly how to respond to that, Madam President."

"Have you ever met Prince Xizor of the Falleen?" she asked in a sweet voice.

It baffled him that she would even mention the one being in the entire galaxy that Talon was sure had more influence then the Emperor. However, he was sure that she only knew Xizor by his royal title as a member of the Falleen court. There was no possible way she could know of his more important role as head of Black Sun, the largest and most powerful criminal organization in the known galaxy. "I'm afraid I don't travel to the Falleen homeworld very often."

"He said you would say something to that effect," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Mr. Karde, may I be blunt?"

He smiled. "By all means."

"I would like to recruit you to perform smuggling operations for certain…groups of persons. You will be smuggling everything from food to weapons to people." She sighed before continuing. "While I can promise you fair payment, I cannot promise you that by agreeing to this you will have secured yourself a safe position in life. The truth is that by asking you to do this, I'm committing treason and if you leave here right now and report me, you will most likely gain the favor of Emperor Palpatine himself."

Talon again forced his face to remain impassive, but his mind was afire as he considered the knowledge he was gaining. He was now privy to one of the most guarded secrets in the galaxy, the identity of an Imperial government official who was part of the rebellion!

Stirrings of discontent had been around ever since the New Order had been formed by Palpatine, but every smuggler knew that there was a growing, organized resistance movement forming up in the darkest corners of the Emperor's realm. His reward for turning Mon Mothma in would indeed be quite substantial, but the thought of doing it never really got any consideration.

Talon had struck out on his own because he was tired of the cutthroat tactics of the smaller gangs, and he had no desire to become another number in the Black Sun organization. While he was a criminal, he was a criminal with a conscience. Certainly he had smuggled spice before, but he knew if he didn't do it, someone else would; it was a simple law of supply and demand. At the same time, however, he understood that using spice was a choice, whereas slavery was not.

Slavery had been officially outlawed in the Empire shortly after Darth Deceptra had been named commander of the armed forces, but it was still practiced on many planets. Talon did not deal with slaves, nor did he hire himself out as an assassin either. He supplied the pleasures of freedom, true freedom that sometimes flew in the face of so-called moral decency. He was a criminal for sure, but that did not make him scum.

"A tempting offer, my dear Madam, but one I must refuse. I have no desire to become involved in a political struggle," he replied.

"But you already are, Mr. Karde," she corrected. "You are a smuggler because the Empire sees to it that the people are denied many of the things that a free society offers. With the exception of say, spice smuggling, would you venture to say that most of your smuggling business would be legitimate under, say, the Old Republic?"

"Ah, but then I would have to deal with baby-stealing, manipulative Jedi Knights," Talon countered. "You'll forgive me if I don't see that as much better."

"Lies, so many lies have been woven about the Jedi since the purges," she lamented. "Yes, they may have taken their pacifism and loyalty to their order too far, but they were good men and women. I knew many of them, counted them as my friends…"

Seeing that she was about to shed tears, Talon reached out and grasped her hand. "I am truly sorry for your loss, but you must understand that I am not a patriot. I am a businessman trying to turn a profit."

"Then I guess he was wrong about you," she said, pulling her hands away.

"Whom may I ask?"

"Prince Xizor. Oh, don't look so shocked; believe me when I say some of us are more than aware of what really goes on in the galaxy." She stood up, ready to end their meeting. "He told me that you were an honest man in a dishonest trade, that you were someone who could be trusted. Know it or not, your reputation is well-known by many, Talon Karde, and you are respected for your integrity. I will not beg, however; I will find someone else if I must."

Talon stood up as well. "I thank the lady for allowing me the pleasure of her company and rest assured that this conversation will go no farther than this room."

Mon Mothma thanked him. "Be wary, Talon Karde; there is a storm coming to this galaxy. There are things you cannot even imagine out there waiting to become the stuff of nightmares." With that, she turned and left, to be replaced by two large security men who hurriedly rushed Talon out of the presidential palace and back to his awaiting shuttle.

He sat at the controls for a long minute, his finger hovering over the engine start button. To think that Xizor himself had recommended him! What did that reptile hope to gain from all of this? No doubt he planned to exploit this rebellion in some way to benefit Black Sun. He could not possibly have rebel sympathies, could he?

Well, Talon thought, he certainly didn't. Taking on a local magistrate or militia was one thing, but going up against an Empire was something else entirely. Besides, it wasn't that bad under the Empire was it?

"Of course it is," he said out loud. He thought about all of the poverty he had seen and all of the losses he had taken when he just didn't have the heart to say no to someone who didn't have all of the money necessary to pay for a shipment of medicine or food. Of course he always made up the money by marking up the shipments of the people who could afford to pay!

He had plans, though, to start an organization that specialized not just in smuggling, but also in information gathering and so many other lucrative enterprises. So many credits were waiting to be made, but how many of those credits would be had at the expense of others? He had heard the rebel talk of freedom and democracy, a lost notion in the universe of the New Order. He wondered if it really had been all that bad under the Jedi blanket of protection. He had been far too young to remember the Jedi, but he understood many of the things they claimed they stood for.

His body told him to push the button, fire up the engines and head back to the modified corvette he was currently operating out of. His heart told him otherwise.

From a business point of view, it made good sense to get in on the ground floor of the rebellion smuggling game. The rebellion was bound to grow and so would their needs. If he could somehow get in on it, and even deal a couple of blows to the stuffy old military supply officers at the same time, why not?

What had gotten him, though, had been the look on Mon Mothma's face when she had given him that final cryptic warning. It hadn't been a threat for refusing her offer; indeed it had been the opposite. It had been a warning of things that were about to happen and if Talon didn't do something, he had the sinking feeling he was going to end up on the wrong end of a blaster very early in his life.

With a wry grin, realizing that he could learn something about negotiations from Mon Mothma, he decided to shut down and see if she would see him again. Besides, he thought, she had a cute daughter. Who knew what could happen?


	2. Chapter 1

Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior

By Christopher W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2002 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2002 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.

**CHAPTER 1**

The Corellian sat back, watching the cantina from behind a mug of ale. It was flat, but one didn't expect quality liquor from a hole in the wall such as this. You didn't come to this place to drink; you came not to be noticed. Finishing the drink, he motioned to the waitress, a pretty young thing who would be old before her time if she stayed on Tatooine, to bring him another.

His partner came across the floor, two figures in tow. No doubt these were the people who were looking for transport off of this rock and if the pilot was lucky, he's make just enough money to get Black Sun off of his back. It was funny that he was here of all places, the former Imperial proving grounds, especially when it was the Imperials he also hoped to avoid. There was that little business about the death warrant on him.

The planet had pretty much reverted to the dustball it had been prior to the Empire, prior to the day when Lord Vader had assumed control of the world after killing Jabba the Hutt. After that, Moff Tarkin had transformed it into a weapons development area. The entire system had been off limits for over a decade and then suddenly, two years ago, that changed.

If the Empire had ever been here in force, it didn't show. It was almost as if an entire world of stormtroopers and guys in funny green uniforms had been put into one big ship and flown away. There were rumors, of course, about secret experiments and moons that never set, but there was no hard evidence. The pilot figured it was a training base for desert combat soldiers and it just became too expensive to keep shipping supplies out here.

Like armored rats drawn to a corpse, the scum of the universe had raced back to Tatooine, a home away from home. The formal government even closed down and went away. It didn't matter much; without military money flowing in, the planet couldn't survive without crime.

Which brought the pilot, his partner and their battered old freighter here, looking for any kind of cargo they could find. Word was that there were several hidden caches of Imperial weapons all over the Dune Sea and the growing rebellion against the New Order was hot to buy them. Of course, they said that the spirit of Darth Maul paced through the desert at night as well.

The waitress dropped off the drink, along with a note with directions to her flat. The pilot grinned and gave her a wink. If he was lucky, he could drop by before having to leave. If not, then he'd drop her an electronic note so she wouldn't think he wasn't interested. He took another look at her was she walked away and figured she should be at home with her parents. 

Tatooine, however, was not the place to suddenly develop morals.

His partner eased into the seat beside him and grabbed his drink. The pilot gave him a wary look and then turned his attention to the two persons seated in front of him. One was a middle-aged man, with a gray beard and clad in a brown desert cloak. Next to him was a much younger man, probably not much older than the waitress the pilot hoped to bed. "My partner tells me you're looking for transport off of Tatooine."

"Yes," the older man said, keeping his hood up. The younger one kept looking around, trying to see if anyone was watching them. The pilot noted the boy's eyes and saw that he was doing his best not to look scared. He also noted that both men kept their hands below the table. "We would like to arrange for transport to Corellia and would like to avoid any Imperial entanglements."

The pilot leaned in close, casually dropping his hand down to the blaster on his hip. "That's the real ticket, isn't it? I mean, anyone can get transport to the Core, but avoiding the Imperial patrols takes some doing? Let me ask you, what's so important that you want to get back home?"

The older man didn't bother to look surprised. "I take it our accents gave us away?"

The pilot shrugged it off, indicating that it didn't really matter to him where they were from. "All I care about is the payment."

"We can provide two thousand now, plus fifteen once we reach Corellia," the older man said. The pilot's partner kicked him in the shin. It was a good deal provided that the couple could actually pay once they got to Corellia. More than once the pilot had been the victim of a dishonored contract.

"Seventeen, eh?" the pilot remarked, scratching at his beard stubble. "Okay, you've got transport."

The older man nodded. "Where and when do we meet?"

"Docking bay 94 in two hours; don't be late. The sooner we're off the planet, the sooner we can get by the Imperial patrols." That wasn't exactly a true statement as there were no Imperial ships in the Tatooine system any longer, but you never knew when you might come across a roaming corvette or star destroyer.

The pilot noted that the boy was eyeing him very carefully, but decided not to say anything about it. He supposed that the younger man had the right to be suspicious, considering that his partner had just placed their lives in the hands of someone with a death warrant on their head. "We'll be there; are Imperial credits sufficient or do you prefer Corporate Sector vouchers?"

The pilot's partner's eyebrows twitched slightly. Something wasn't quite right about this. If the old man had access to Corporate Sector vouchers all the way out here in the boonies of the galaxy, then they were much more than simple travelers. "We'll take the vouchers," the pilot responded. They could drop the profits, after they paid Xizor, the head of Black Sun, into their accounts in the CSA, where they would draw more interest than in a standard Imperial bank. Trying to convert from Imp Script would require payment of a healthy fee, so the vouchers made the most sense.

The two passengers nodded together and stood up, pulling their robes around themselves as they left. The pilot watched them go and as soon as they were out of earshot, he turned to his partner. "Where did you find these two, Lando?"

The handsome, dark-skinned man flashed a million credit grin. "They found me, I swear! I was just standing at the bar, trying to find out of there was any local sabbac action…"

The pilot shook his head. "That's what put us in debt to Xizor in the first place! You and your damn sabbac!"

"That game was rigged!" Lando offered in protest. "There was no way that senator could have won!"

"You should have known better than to sit down at a game with someone who Xizor is patronizing!"

"Aw, you're just mad because you can't play worth a…"

"Get back to the story," the pilot said, cutting his friend off. "You say they came up to you?"

Lando nodded. "Asked me if I was a pilot and I gave them the sales pitch. I didn't even have to haggle or anything." Lando turned and motioned for a drink. "You know," he said returning back to conversation, "this will give us more than enough money to cover our debt to Black Sun…"

"Your debt."

Lando's smile never faltered. "_Our_ debt, need I remind you this is a partnership?"

The pilot sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fine; if it's a partnership, then you go and prep the _Outrider_."

The barmaid put Lando's drink on the table and walked off. "Come on, Dash; you know that will take over an hour by myself."

Dash watched the waitress saunter off. "Yep, well I fly the ship remember?"

"A ship I bought…"

"With my money…"

"That I won in a sabbac game…"

"That was rigged! You cheated and you know it," Dash said. Lando started to speak, but thought better of it. It was the truth, but the circumstances had been accidental, not intentional. "Just get the ship warmed up; I have some _business_ to attend to."

Lando saw where his gaze went to. "A little young don't you think?"

"Not to me; maybe to you, old man, but then you always did go for the geriatric crowd." He put a hand on Lando's arm. "Believe me, she is old enough; the pretty ones just like me more."

"Must be your child-like demeanor," Lando chided as he stood up. "Don't be late; we really need these credits." Dash didn't reply and instead finished Lando's drink as his friend exited the cantina. He took a deep breath and stood up. He straightened his gun belt and started to head over to the waitress, coming up with a story to hurry their encounter.

A Rodian stepped in front of him with a blaster and poked him in the chest. It spoke to him in accented Huttese. "Going somewhere, Rendar?"

Dash slowly sat back down, unclasping the restraint over his weapon as he did. "Hello, Greedo, how's it going?"

"You have a price on your head, Rendar; an Imperial death warrant worth fifty thousand credits," the alien said. Dash looked uninterested but kept an eye on Greedo's trigger finger. Rodian's were hard to read with their long snouts and large eyes, devoid of pupils.

"You know, you can just walk away from this. Real bounty hunters have come after me and failed." He moved his non-gun hand up to the wall, where he pretended to pick at something stuck there.

"I am a real bounty hunter, you mercenary scum. You deserted from the Imperial army, they don't take kindly to that. You're also suspected of having rebel sympathies. Nobody would blame me for putting a hole in you right here." Greedo chuckled as he spoke what he thought would be the obituary for his quarry. "When you get to hell, tell them I sent you."

Dash threw him a Corellian curse and pulled the trigger on his own blaster. The coherent light beam blew through the table top and punched into Greedo's chest. Charred heart and lung material blasted out the alien's back and showered onto a drunk pair of Jawas. As Greedo fell dead, Dash slowly stood up. The waitress ran over, as did the barkeep. 

Dash grabbed the girl by the hand and threw the owner a bag of solid credits. "Sorry about the mess."

The barkeep opened the bag and looked inside. Satisfied, he shrugged and barked some orders to the bouncers while Dash and the waitress exited the cantina.

The lone warrior stood at the gate to the landing pad and stared out at the _Lambda_-Class shuttle that sat there under heavy guard. Twelve armed stormtroopers, the white-armored elite soldiers of the Empire, guarded a tight perimeter, surrounding the warrior's only hope of escape.

His mother laid a hand on his shoulder, but he did not turn. She was, in theory, the warden of this prison facility, yet she was as much a prisoner as the political dissidents that Emperor Palpatine placed here. Dathomir was a planet far away from anything, a lush jungle world that had never been formally settled by any civilization.

The native species were mostly reptilian and the humans that were considered indigenous were really the descendants of dark Jedi refugees. That only accounted for half of his heritage. His mother, Gethzerion, was the most powerful Nightsister on the world, the official representative of the witch clans before the Emperor. His father, however, had been a powerful Dark Lord of the Sith.

Darth Maul.

Malakie shook his head at the futility of his existence. He was the inheritor of the title that his father had once possessed; yet he was exiled to this world because Palpatine feared the power of the Nightsisters. At the same time, they were allies that he could not afford to lose either. So, he and his mother's people were regaled to glorified prison guard duty while the warships of Admiral Zsinj's stood protective watch in orbit, preventing Malakie from simply taking the shuttle and going in search of his destiny.

"Your thoughts form a dark cloud over you, my son," Gethzerion said. He turned to regard her and felt his heart sicken at the sight of her. Once, she had been a woman of great beauty. So fair was she to gaze upon that she was able to seduce a Dark Lord. The years of constant exposure to the power of the Dark Side had eaten her away from the inside out. Smooth skin had pruned and exotic eyes had sunken to become dark orbs. 

Malakie was fortunate that he had his father's alien blood running though his veins, for it granted him the constitution to not only withstand the Dark Side power he possessed, but it also made him physically stronger than the average human. He looked very human except for the blood red iris's that gave him his unique beauty. His white hair, a gift from his mother, was pulled back into a long ponytail and allowed to hang over his black robes, another gift.

"What would you expect of me, mother? You promised me that one day I would be taken before Palpatine to assume my father's place. Yet, here I stand in the rain watching as inferior beings deny me my birthright." He turned his gaze back to the stormtroopers. It would be so easy to kill them, but once he did, then what? He did not know how to pilot a shuttle and even if he did, he had no chance of getting through the naval blockade. "I have no place in this universe so long as I stay here on this wretched planet."

"You need to have patience, my son, for your time draws near," Gethzerion said in a soothing voice. 

"My time should be now," was the quick reply. "Patience is the credo of the Jedi; patience becomes complacency which leads to weakness. Weakness leads to decimation."

"You quote the teachings of the Sith quite well, as always," Gethzerion complimented.

"We only had one holochip that referenced the Sith at all," he said, recalling his early education. Gethzerion had secured several holochips of Jedi teachings that had come from a wrecked starship in the swamps. Malakie had found most of the lessons boring, except those that taught offensive skills. Through the whole of the lessons, however, the holographic instructor had warned of the Dark Side and the dangers that lay in following its path.

Malakie had forsaken the lessons several years prior and had instead worked on developing his own Force-techniques. Because he had no worthy opponents, he had no way of verifying whether or not he had been successful. "It is my own philosophy, mother."

"You sound so much like your father," she lamented. He thought of reminding her that her relationship with Darth Maul had lasted only one night and he had left without a second thought the next morning. He didn't though as he understood that his mother had truly loved his father even if the feelings were never returned. When she spoke like this, he knew she was speaking more from wishful thinking than anything else. "He would be proud of you."

"He would call me a failure for not taking matters into my own hands. One does not become a Dark Lord by waiting for destiny to come to you. A Dark Lord must be willing to seize the galaxy by the throat and squeeze it into submission." He turned completely around and the flashing lightning only served to make his red eyes stand out from under his hood. "I do not wish to go before Palpatine as a simple jungle-bred fool. I need to be trained properly in the Sith arts."

Gethzerion spread her hands. "How? Where would you find a master to apprentice to? Palpatine has an apprentice already, Darth Deceptra."

"That bitch…she was a party to my father's murder, I know it," Malakie said in disgust. The official story was that Darth Maul and Darth Vader, Maul's apprentice, had died battling the Jedi on Korriban. Only Vader's apprentice, the former Padme Amidala Skywalker, had survived to inform the Emperor of the demise of his two most loyal subjects. Shortly afterwards, the bride of Darth Vader had been elevated to the status of Dark Apprentice, though she was most often referred to as a Dark Lady of the Sith.

Malakie had always suspected that Deceptra had engineered Maul's death so that she could take his place next to Palpatine. Even her marriage to Vader had been a sham, if the rumors the Imperial officers within the prison facility were true. It was said that she shared the bed of Palpatine on the colder Imperial Center nights. Some even said that her son, Luke Skywalker, the so-called Emperor's Fist, was really the fruit of Palpatine's labors and not Vader's. 

"Regardless, she is the Dark Apprentice and unless she is removed, then you have no master," Gethzerion said matter-of-factly. "Come, let us go in where it is warm; my old bones do not care for these rainy nights."

"Even if I did eliminate Deceptra, her son would move into the coveted position," Malakie said, not moving from the spot he been standing in for hours. "I think that perhaps the adage of 'one master, one apprentice' is outdated."

Gethzerion shook a finger at him. "You're father did not think so! You speak just like Palpatine…"

"How would you know, mother? How many times has Palpatine deemed you worthy to even speak to? He directs you through his Admiral's and adjutants." Malakie closed his eyes and swallowed his anger. His mother was only trying to show him the true path of the Sith as it had been handed down over the centuries. The problem was that the Nightsisters had been formed by dark and fallen Jedi, not true Sith and so their perceptions of the Dark Side were awry. "The tradition was established, I believe, because the ranks of the Sith had been thinned by constant in-fighting. By having only two persons in charge, it made it easier to control the Sith."

"It made it easier for them to hide from the Jedi, you mean," she retorted. She flashed him a jagged smile of yellowed teeth. "You are such a thinker; how I had such high hopes for you. You are right, perhaps patience is not what we should have. Perhaps it is time that the two of us took our leave of this world."

Malakie threw his head back in mirth. "How, mother? How do you propose that we leave this place? Use the Force to float away on dark hopes and black dreams?"

"We will take the shuttle and we will use the Force to make them let us through the blockade."

Malakie shook his head. "I have thought of that, mother; I do not believe either one of us is strong enough to influence the mind of Admiral Zsinj. He is a competent and greedy officer who wishes to remain in Palpatine's good graces. He would shoot us from the sky before I could ever hope to influence his mind."

"You will influence it from here, then," she snapped. "You speak about power, so show me what real power you have. Believe me when I say that distance is not a factor when you are using the Force, my son. If you are truly the heir to Darth Maul's title, then you should be able to do it."

Malakie was taken slightly aback by his mother's pronouncements, but he knew that she spoke true. He could feel the small tendrils in the Force that Palpatine sent out to his various commanders, unifying them in a sort of hive-mind. Great was Palpatine's control over the Force, but it was tied to his overblown ego. In truth, Malakie despised Palpatine for what he saw as the ultimate betrayal: bedding the killer of Darth Maul.

Given the chance, Malakie would plunge a dagger into Palpatine's chest and would seat himself upon the throne of the galaxy.

Gethzerion saw the glimmer in her son's eyes and realized that the plan she had spoken of was now beginning to come together. The voice that had spoken to her, the voice of the long-dead Sith Lord Exar Kunn, had told her what she needed to do. Kunn required an apprentice who would not only carry on his name, but help him find a suitable container to hold his spirit so that he may walk again with mankind. In exchange, he promised to train her son and grant her the youth that had been stolen from her by her inadequate frame.

Malakie nodded. "A worthy challenge to my abilities, mother, and right you are to give it to me. If I cannot get us off the planet by my will alone, what right do I have to believe I could rule the galaxy?"

She reached out her hand and for the first time in many months, he took it. She led him back into the warmth of the prison. "Yes; we will make haste to leave this place and perhaps I will find you a master worthy of training you."

He smiled, perfect teeth glistening in the artificial light of the passageway. His good looks had garnered him the favors of most of the warrior witches in the prison and all of the female Imperial clerks assigned to Dathomir. "Something tells me that you have done more than just listen to my complaining, mother; have you been visiting the Imperial prison library?"

It was a foolish notion, of course; Gethzerion could not read Basic, but she went along with the ruse for now. "Or something like that. Regardless, my son, you get us away from here quietly and in secret, like a true Sith, and I will take care of the rest."

She cackled. "After all, have I not always taken care of you?"


	3. Chapter 2

Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior

By Christopher W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2002 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2002 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.

**CHAPTER 2**

Luke Skywalker jumped into the air, calling the Force to strengthen him as he pushed himself several meters high. His lightsaber came off of his utility belt and he ignited it, a black blade that shimmered with a slight purple hue on the edges. He somersaulted and swung at the same time, making no sound and listening for the telltale popping that accompanied a successful strike. 

By the time he landed on the other side of the training room, he knew that his attack had been successful. He picked up the scent of burning electrical components and he turned slowly to see the two halves of the training probe laying on the floor. He smiled for the strike had been flawless; he had taken down an enemy he could not see, that possessed no life in the Force for him to detect as he began his attack. Instead, he had used his senses to reach out and find what was _not_ in the Force.

He heard clapping from the door into the room and by its sound, he knew that it came from well-muscled hands. They were pilot's hands that were applauding his efforts. Luke made a small bow and then shut off his lightsaber. The lights suddenly came on and he saw a man in standard Imperial officer duty greens standing there with a set of night-vision goggles on. "What did you think?" he asked, seeking the approval of his friend.

"Not bad, kid, not bad at all. Wouldn't mind having you at my back during a bar fight, that's for sure," the officer replied, removing the goggles. "Hell, I don't think I could have taken that probe down with one shot with the lights on." The officer patted the blaster at his side. "Still, you know I don't believe in all of that hocus-pocus."

"Better not let my mother hear that, Han," Luke warned with a wink, "you know how she deals with the unfaithful."

Han just smiled. "Hey, you know I have the greatest respect for your mom, a pillar of the Imperial society…"

"I'm so glad I meet with your approval, Lieutenant Solo," Darth Deceptra said as she entered the room.

Han immediately came to attention and saluted, his eyes never wavering. Darth Deceptra regarded the man for a moment and once again could find no real fault with him. She could sense his fear and slight longing for her, but that was to be expected. The sliver of the Kaiburr Crystal that was embedded in her chest granted her great control over the Force, much more than what she would have been able to on her own, and it also enhanced her charisma and sexuality. In other words, she appeared larger than life to all of the senses. 

She wasn't unattractive and she knew it and that did more to boost the aura of confidence that surrounded her. Even with the cybernetic eye and bionics that replaced the parts of her that had been destroyed by Darth Maul, she was someone that many men would have lusted for regardless of the Crystal. "I meant no disrespect, my lady," Han said in apology.

She did not answer him but instead left him at attention. Any other man would have been punished for such a sloppy attitude towards their superiors, but Han Solo was a member of Knight Squadron, the premier flight group within the Imperial military. Only the absolute best pilots were allowed to enter and as such, they were given great leeway since often times great pilots had great egos to match.

Approaching her kneeling son, she felt a wave of pride wash over her. When she had been a common senator of the Old Republic, back before her eyes had been opened to the chaos caused by the Jedi Knights, she had never even imagined having children. Marriage and family were thoughts for other young girls as she found herself thrust onto the galaxy stage after the Trade Federation her invaded her home planet of Naboo.  

The anger still heated her neck when she thought about how the corrupt senators had decided to debate the issue instead of take action. If not for the foresight of some Jedi Knights, like Qui-Gon Jinn, a man who saw through the deception of the Jedi Council, then Naboo would have been lost. 

She also could not forget the contributions of young Anakin Skywalker, either, who took down the Trade federation Command and Control vessel by himself in a single snubnose fighter. Anakin would later grow up to become Darth Vader, Deceptra's master and husband.

Now Vader was gone and Deceptra had been left all alone to raise her son and had it not been for the Emperor's kindness, then she surely would have been lost. She had tried to repay him by providing him the heir he so desperately wanted, but the damage to her body caused by her battle with Darth Maul prevented any _normal_ child from being produced.

Her new master had not been ungrateful for her efforts and now she enjoyed a position of authority, the second most powerful person in the galaxy. "Rise my son and tell me of your progress."

Luke did as he commanded, but did not raise his eyes to meet his mother. No male was allowed, save for the Emperor, to look directly at Deceptra without her explicit permission. It was a rule that had grown out of the misplaced intentions of Bail Organna, a would be suitor of the woman Deceptra used to be. When he could not have her, he began a campaign of competition between his child and Deceptra's. 

In a dinner conversation, Deceptra had made the comment that Organna was not fit to look upon her visage. The Emperor took it a step farther and made it law not just for the Alderaanian viceroy, but for all male members of the Empire. A subtle way of maintaining needed order.

"I believe I am ready for the test of my lightsaber skills, mother, as in the tradition of the Sith," Luke said obediently.

Of that she had no doubt, but there was a problem with that. There were no other suitable candidates for Luke to battle against. It was only a formality; he would be considered a dark Jedi regardless, but the proving battle between two hopeful students was something that every student trained for because it marked a passage from student to graduate. "As you know, there are no others for you to test your mettle against. No longer do we accept students into our dark academy; there is no academy. We live only to serve the Emperor, my master and therefore your master. I will inform him of your progress and tell him there is nothing more I can teach you."

Luke nearly lifted his head up and in order to save the boy from being punished, she granted him permission to look upon her. She saw the glint of excitement in his eyes that so reminded her of her departed husband. Oh, she thought, how much she missed her Anakin! "Then if my training is done, may I submit my application to the academy?"

"There is no need for that; you are the Emperor's Fist and do not have to sit through boring lectures and training exercises to learn what you already know. You are a Sith apprentice, a Jedi of the darkest order." She cast an eye towards the ever silent and motionless Han Solo. "You are not a droid to be pushed out of the Imperial military machine."

There was a cough from behind them, but it was not unexpected. Deceptra has sensed the new arrival's presence very early on. "Ah, Baron Fel, the chief programmer of the assembly line I speak of."

"I do not turn out clones, unlike some members of the government," the commanding officer of the Knights commented dryly.

Deceptra turned to him, her cybernetic eye glowing briefly. "Be careful, Baron, for some members of the Emperor's court may find such talk treasonous."

"Then let them lay the charges at my feet. My service record speaks for my loyalty. Just because I wear the uniform, however, does not mean I agree with the philosophies of my superiors." Fel stepped into the room proper, throwing a curious glance at Solo. He shook his head and turned back to Deceptra, keeping his eyes lowered. "However, if my independent thoughts offend you, my lady, then perhaps I should just close my eyes and fly blindly into battle?"

Deceptra found the humor dry. "I suppose you have a reason for interrupting my time with my son?"

He handed over a data pad. "Indeed I do, my lady; young Skywalker's orders for a commission were just routed to me. I'm here to assign him properly to my unit."

Luke's smile grew. "You mean that's it? I'm a real pilot?"

Fel's response was quick, like a lightsaber strike to the heart. "No; it means you're an officer. You are a talented pilot, Skywalker, there is no denying that, but you have to learn how to integrate your abilities into a team."

Deceptra scoffed at the notion. "My son does not to integrate into anything; true power lies in what the individual can achieve. A 'team' as you put it is nothing more than the weak trying to live off of the accomplishments of the strong."

Fel did not bother to rely; it was an argument he had engaged in several times over the past year since he had taken command of the Knights. He decided to change the subject. "You are entitled to two weeks of leave prior to reporting to your squadron, Flight Officer Skywalker."

Luke began to smile and Deceptra could sense the hopes rising in her son. He had spent the last three years on Imperial Center, training in combat techniques. He was a young Sith warrior, eager to flex his muscles. Again she found herself comparing the boy to his father and there was a slight stirring in her heart. Would Luke go out and find his own Padme to fall in love with?

She held her breath as she remembered Anakin's touch. "And what are you suggesting, Baron?" she asked.

He shrugged, bringing his eyes up briefly. She admired the defiance he displayed but kept that information buried. The Emperor surely would not hesitate to kill even his favorite Imperial hero for violating his commands. "I think it would be good for the boy to get out and show the Empire he's all grown up."

"I would have to clear it with the Emperor…"

Fel handed over a piece of flimsy. "I have taken the liberty of speaking with him already."

Deceptra's anger became a hot blanket that dropped over all of them. Han began to sweat, but Fel maintained his cool demeanor. "You sometimes take liberties you shouldn't, Baron."

"I am a Hero of the Empire…I do not require your permission to seek an audience with the Emperor," Fel reminded her. It was true, but he was still skating the thin line between privilege and insubordination. Again, she found the quality admirable. Very few men were able to ignite such passion within her and though she would never speak her thoughts out loud, her feelings for Fel went beyond the chain of command.

"Do you suggest that he go alone out into the world?" she asked coldly.

He shook his head and then indicated Solo. "Let his comrade and future wingman go with him. Regardless of your beliefs, it is important that they develop a strong bond between them."

"Friendship is a weakness."

"As I said, your beliefs in this matter, my lady, are not the basis for my decision. I am in charge of the squadron and our current record reflects my management style." He bowed his head. "As for friendship, my lady, I am sorry to hear you say that for I had always considered us friends, even if we didn't always agree."

Deceptra tried to read his thoughts with the Force, but Fel's mind was too strong for her to do it passively. If she tried to force her way past his defenses, she could harm him and the Empire would lose a valuable weapon. Perhaps his sentiments were real and he did have a genuine affection for her or perhaps he sensed her desire for him and was using it as a striking blade in this duel. 

Fel had been married once before, to a holodramas star. Deceptra had her killed, of course, but had yet to act upon the feelings she was developing for the younger man. Maybe it was time to seek out a new mate. Anakin had been dead for almost two decades and while she had been taken on as the Emperor's lover, she held no illusions about his feelings for her. She was his apprentice, the heir to his throne should he ever return to the Force, which didn't seem very likely.

If she were to remarry, she often times wondered how Palpatine would react. Would he no longer call her to his bed? Would he kill Fel as a rival, just as she had eliminated Fel's wife? Fel could perhaps fill the void that was left in her life by the death of Anakin and it was quite possible that they could have children together…normal children.

"A Sith has no time for friendship, a lesson I wish my son would learn," she said turning to Luke. He continued to smile and she realized that the spark of joy that had been passed onto him from his father just could not be put out. Luke was a different kind of Sith, just as Deceptra was. "I suppose we all have a tendency to gravitate towards those who opinions matter, even if they are below our station," she said. Han still did not move but she noted that his forehead was plastered with sweat. 

She loved her son dearly, a quality that Palpatine had pointed out was very un-Sithlike. She had asked him if he had ever felt any type of feelings for any of his former apprentices. He had smiled, telling her that out of all them, including herself, he had always felt that Darth Maul had been most like him and that he had always felt a sort of admiration towards the Sith Lord.

"Very well, since I appear to have been outvoted on this issue, I give my consent. However, Captain," she said, using Fel's military rank and shaking a black gloved finger at him. "Should any harm befall my son because of that primate you send along with him, I promise you that you will feel death a thousand times before I send you to oblivion."

Fel clicked his heels together and bowed from the waist. "As you command, my lady."

"My mother has taken a great interest in you, Captain Fel," Luke said as he and his new commanding officer stood in the hanger bay. Han was already inside the shuttle, prepping it for takeoff. "Some would say an interest that is more social than required."

"Is there a problem with that, Flight Officer Skywalker?" Fel asked with a smirk.

Luke's normally pleasant blue eyes took on a dark hue. "If there was a problem, sir, I would let you know immediately."

"Are you threatening me, son?"

"Don't call me son. I am the child of Deceptra and Vader, a Sith by training and by lineage. If I were threatening you, sir, you would be dead already. Make no mistake, I need…no, I want to serve under you and learn what it is that you know, but that doesn't mean that I'm not who I am." He leaned in closer. "If you hurt my mother, I will not only kill you, but I'll hunt down every person in the galaxy with an ounce of Fel DNA as well."

Fel now looked at the boy whom he had considered merely an oddity, a Force-trained Imperial soldier for the past year. Gone was the face of innocence and exuberance, to be replaced by the visage of dark power. This was the Sith of legend, the fabled enemies of the accursed Jedi who could move mountains with thoughts and shoot lightning from their fingertips. All of his preconceived notions about Luke Skywalker went out the window.

He knew that Deceptra was interested in him and despite the age difference, he found himself attracted to her as well. Ever since his wife had been murdered by space pirates, he had been alone with his grief. In Deceptra, he saw a kindred spirit. Their differences, her with the Force and he with his piloting ability, only served to intrigue him more. He had not pursued his feelings only because he did not wish to be on the receiving end of the Emperor's wraith. "A very nice threat, but I do not scare easily."

Luke smiled darkly. "I know, which is why my mother looks at you the way she does. I have caught glimpses of the future, Captain, and I know that you will be with my mother soon. However, the future is clouded as to the end result. I'm just trying to make it easier on you."

"Or easier on yourself, perhaps? Maybe you think if I become involved with your mother you won't have to try so hard?"

Luke laughed a genuine, joyful outburst. "I do not need your patronizing, sir; I'm the best damn pilot you have and you know it."

"We shall see, Flight Officer Skywalker, when you get back. Enough of this; I am your commanding officer and you will never speak to me in such a way again. Remember, I do have the ear of the Emperor." He patted Luke's shoulder. "My loyalty to the Empire is absolute as is my loyalty to my superiors, including your mother."

Luke accepted that and his eyes took on their normal light hue. "I'll try not to be good."

Fel watched the young pilot run off to the shuttle. "I'm sure you will," he whispered.


	4. Chapter 3

Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior

By Christopher W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2002 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2002 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.

**CHAPTER 3**

"Gentlemen, let's bring this meeting to order," Grand Moff Tarkin said. His voice carried an air of authority and his face carried an air of fear. Gaunt, almost skeletal, with a grayness that seemed to permeate his skin, Tarkin was the senior Moff, or military governor, in the Empire. It was he that oversaw the construction of the Death Star over the planet Tatooine and it was he who had been given command of it by the Emperor himself.

Tarkin looked at the assembled officers, many of them former members of the staff employed by Darth Vader when he had been alive. There were also those whom Tarkin considered political allies that he had placed in key positions within the Death Star Forces, a new branch of the military he himself had designed.

When all of the conversation had stopped, he smiled with his thin, dry lips and placed his hands behind his back. "The Death Star is now officially operational."

Several of the officers exchanged looks of surprise and shock. Preliminary trials were scheduled to continue for several months. Tarkin understood their concerns, but felt they were foolish and fearful ones. "We are to make best speed to Imperial Center where the Emperor plans to unveil us to the general populace."

"What of the Sith Moon?" Admiral Motti asked, referring to the second, yet larger and more powerful battlestation.

"It is still under construction at Endor and will be commanded by Admiral Daala," Tarkin replied. Daala was well-known to be the married Tarkin's mistress. A competent officer and tactician, she was nevertheless considered nothing more than a whore by the combat officers. Had it not been for the presence of Darth Deceptra in the Imperial military ranks, many doubted that Daala could ever hope to achieve such a position.

"And the _Super­_-Class star destroyer program?" another aide asked.

Tarkin shrugged. He felt that the new warships were ludicrous when compared to the firepower of a battlestation such as the Death Star. "It's really none of our concern. For our needs, the _Imperial­_-class vessels we have onboard shall do quite nicely." He waited for any more questions and then proceeded with the briefing. "After the ceremony on Imperial Center, we have been directed out to Bakura, where contact has been made with a new sentient race."

"We are opening relations?" someone called out.

"That will be the official story. In reality, we will wipe this species from the galaxy. They have shown an unwillingness to be subjugated by humans."

"Can we eat them?" someone joked.

Tarkin grinned. "We shall see, we shall see." He turned on the table's holoprojector and a small map of the Empire popped up. "After that, I believe that we will begin pursuing this rebellion that has begun to creep up on many of the secondary worlds."

General Veers looked at the map; worlds with known rebel cells were outlined in blue. "Have we determined if these groups are coordinating their efforts?"

Tarkin nodded. "Yes, they do appear to have come up with a centralized leadership. Of course, they are no threat to the Empire overall, but we may be forced to take drastic actions against worlds harboring the malcontents."

"I have heard rumors that there are Jedi at the head of these groups," Veers said as he sat back.

"They would be very old Jedi if they were, General. No, the last Jedi was Ki Adi Mundi and he was killed by Darth Maul over eighteen years ago. There are no more Jedi masters, no more Jedi Knights. Their fire has gone out in the galaxy." He paused for a moment. "However, if we do come across such evidence, we will turn it over to Darth Deceptra immediately and allow her to deal with it."

The meeting then broke up, each officer heading back to their departments to ensure the information was passed down to the lowest of levels. Tarkin remained alone in the room and waited until a secret door opened up. A blue-skinned humanoid in the uniform of a Grand Admiral stepped out. "Not exactly the truth," Thrawn said.

Tarkin gave it a dismissive wave of his hand. "The Jedi are gone, most were eliminated during the massacre at the Temple and the rest were hunted down. History records Ki Adi Mundi as the last Jedi."

"And we both know that my ventures into the Unknown Regions over the past decade have turned up a surprising bit of evidence that some of the Jedi escaped outside of the galaxy," Thrawn corrected.

"Which is why we are going to destroy the Sri-Ruuk out at Bakura, just in case some of the Jedi made it to them.? He regarded the alien. "What do you care?"

"A single Jedi could bring down the entire New Order; we both know not to underestimate them." Thrawn moved over to the viewport and looked out. All he could see were the towers of the surface of the Death Star. "A single Jedi could bring down this battlestation."

"Of course," Tarkin replied sarcastically, "and I suppose he would fly in and drop a proton torpedo into my reactor ventilation system."

"He could have had I not found that flaw," Thrawn corrected. 

"I suffer you because I have no desire to have that Sith Witch on board, don't make me regret it," Tarkin said.

Thrawn smiled and his red eyes took on a new shade. "Interesting choice of words, governor; it will make a wonderful addition to my report."

"Do whatever you will, Thrawn! Once the ceremony is over, you transfer back to the Unknown Regions and I get a proper, human attaché."

Thrawn studied Tarkin for a moment, watching his facial features, even the slight twitch of his hand. This was a doomed man, Thrawn decided, doomed by his own arrogance. "Since my presence offends you, I shall take my leave. One thing, though," he said as he approached his secret door.

"What is that?"

"Don't put too much faith into this construction of metal and wire; the sentient spirit, whether you call it a soul or the Force, is much stronger and harder to break. This is a weapon meant to either destroy your enemies with finesse or without. It is the without I would worry about were I you, governor."

Dash stepped into the docking bay and regarded his ship. The _Outrider_ was a Corellian Engineering YT-2400 freighter, heavily modified with everything that Dash and Lando could get a hold of. He loved the ship and he felt it loved him back. She was the last of her kind and Dash would often sit in the cockpit and wonder what it had been like in the old days when all of the cool smugglers had Corellian vessels.

The truth was that the Empire was slowly choking the life out of Corellia. Major starship contracts were being handed out to Seinar and Kuat, leaving the Corellians, master shipbuilders for centuries, with no real market. The Hutts were gone, Nal Hutta having been reduced to a flaming husk in the early days of the Empire and there simply were no other groups wanting to buy Corellian goods.

The logical thinking was that since Corellia had not supported Palpatine's many dictates from the throne it was going to be allowed to starve to death. The same thing was basically happening with Alderaan as well, but that planet had been smart enough to invest in many diverse locations. It would take Alderaan many decades to become poor.

It was just one of the reasons why Dash had left the military so suddenly. When he had gone home on leave and saw the state of his world, it brought tears to his eyes. Then he saw the Imperial recruiting poster with the pilots from the Knights, Soontir Fel and Han Solo, both "home-grown Corellians". It had been enough to make Dash question what he had been doing.

For the first year, he tried being a mercenary, but then he ended up killing an important Imperial spy and that had put the death warrant on his head. Normally, deserters, even ones trained like Dash had been, were given lengthy prison sentences or sent on suicide missions; death warrants were normally reserved for people who really had angered the Emperor. It took some doing on Lando's part, but he finally found out that the man Dash had killed had actually been a major in the Crimson Guard, Palpatine's elite bodyguard. 

The death warrant complicated things so much that Dash had to become a smuggler, where having a death warrant was a badge of honor. The smugglers wouldn't turn him in, but that didn't mean that bounty hunters wouldn't be coming after him now and again. 

"Heard you ran into Greedo," Lando said as he stepped down the loading ramp. He was wiping some grease off of his well-manicured hands. 

"Born loser, I tell you. I gave him a chance to leave, but he was going to shoot me right there to make sure I didn't get away," Dash said as he inspected the outer hull plates. "He told me my price is up to fifty-thousand."

Lando whistled. "Man, that is going to bring out the professionals, you know that? People like Bossk and Dengar."

Dash shook his head. "I know Dengar; he's already told me he won't come after me. Bossk, though…"

Lando suppressed a shiver. The Transdoshan bounty hunter was infamous for his relentless pursuits. "Hey, once we pay Xizor back he might protect you."

Dash had considered that. Xizor had actually been pretty good to him and Lando, giving them all of this extra time to pay back their debt. Most people would have been hunted down by now, but Dash secretly suspected that Xizor found Lando too good of a card player to let go. If Dash wasn't working with Lando, then he'd probably be dead already. "I'm thinking about doing something else for a change."

"What, honest work?"

Dash eyed him. "Aren't you the one who wants to be respectable? I just want to live. I'm thinking about heading deep into the Corporate Sector, maybe signing on with one of the security companies. The Empire doesn't pursue warrants there."

"They don't chase you into the Hapan Cluster either but I wouldn't go there," Lando offered. 

Dash was about to reply when Lando pointed to the bay doors. Dash's hand brushed his blaster grip as he turned to see their passengers coming through. They were still dressed the same, but both had their hoods up. "Why do they dress like Jedi?'

Shrugging, Lando offered no help. "At least they don't have lightsabers."

Dash told him to fire up the repulsor coils and then moved out to meet his fare. "Glad to see you could make it," Dash said.

The older man handed over an envelope and Dash looked inside it. Sure enough, it was full of CSA vouchers. "You know you could have bought a ship for this amount."

"Not a fast one," the boy offered. Dash wondered if he realized just how fast the _Outrider_ was. 

"She'll make point-two-five past light-speed, if you're interested," Dash said as he led them to the ramp. "She's got enough shields and arms that we should be able to get out the way of anyone who tries to stop us."

"So, you'll stand and fight if we're accosted?" the older man asked.

Dash shook his head. "If I was by myself, I might harass them a little, but with cargo, no way."

As they walked up the ramp a small chirping sound could be heard. Dash whirled around, drawing his blaster. His quick reflexes astonished his passengers. "You two are armed," he said with a smile.

The older man pulled back his hood and directed his younger partner to do the same. In the good light of the cargo hold, Dash could see that the "boy" was really a bit older than what he had originally thought. The young man had a stern look to his eye; he really did not like having a weapon pointing at him. "If we could step inside and get out of here, I would like to explain," the older man offered.

Dash nodded his head once. "Sure, just drop the blasters and then we can talk."

"Dad," the younger one said, "let's just take him down and drag him there!"

"You two are the sorriest bounty hunters I've ever seen, you know that?" Dash remarked as several weapons hit the deck plate. When he was satisfied that they were disarmed, Dash closed the hatch and told Lando to take off. "Better strap in," he said, not taking his eyes off of the prisoners.

The younger one kicked out, hoping to knock Dash's weapon away, but Dash was too seasoned to fall for such a move. He moved the weapon, leaned in and punched his assailant in the face. As the younger one went down, Dash ordered "dad" to pick him up.

"We aren't bounty hunters," he said. "We're CorSec."

"Great, now I've got law enforcement out of their jurisdiction hunting me down. Does this look like Corellia to you? No, this is Tatooine, a planet with no extradition treaty with anyone." He cursed and moved them into the lounge area, where he holstered his pistol for the ride up into space. Even if they did get it away from him, he could call to Lando to seal the cockpit and then fill the lounge with gas that would render them all asleep. "Why the ruse?"

The older man smiled. "I'm Hal Horn and this is my son, Corran."

"I believe my fist already met his face," Dash said. He received a death glare from Corran. "You haven't answered my question. Is Corellia so hard up for money that it's using its own security to chase down bounties now?"

Hal laughed. "We don't want to turn you in, we were sent to bring you to someone who wants to just speak with you."

"Let me guess: some gutter-whore is saying I'm the father of her twenty children. You're chasing a wild mynock, fellas; I've never even slept with a girl from Corellia."

Corran sneered. "That's because Corellian women, even the prostitutes, have taste."

Dash held up his bloody fist. "I'll give you something to taste, hotshot!"

"Bring it on, deserter!"

Dash pointed to his trousers, which were blue with a long red stripe running down the length. "See that? That's a Corellian Bloodstripe. Do you have one?"

Corran rolled his eyes. "All of the good Imperial lackeys have them."

Dash jumped up and Corran met him in the center of the lounge, where they managed to trade several blows before Lando adjusted the degree of incline and sent them tumbling down the passage towards the hold. 

Corran was the first to get up and he jumped on Dash's back to start pummeling him in the back of the head. Dash's biceps turned red as he pushed up off of the deck and then flopped to his side, throwing Corran off of him. "You hit like a girl, CorSec!"

"You dress like one," Corran returned as he grabbed a loose hydrospanner. A wild swing caught Dash's shoulder, but the padding protected him from any real damage. He retaliated with an uppercut that took Corran off of his feet.

The younger security officer landed hard and Dash was rewarded when he saw a tooth missing from Corran's mouth. With a war cry, he jumped and landed on top of Corran, knocking the wind out of him. 

Secure in the knowledge that the autopilot would take them out to the jump point, Lando exited the cockpit and raced down the passageway to the lounge, his small, yet expensive, holdout blaster in his hand. He saw Hal sitting in his chair, but Corran and Dash were nowhere to be seen. "Hi," Hal said extending his hand, "I'm Hal Horn of Corellian Security."

Lando took the hand, but kept his eyes in the passage down to the cargo bay. He could hear the sounds of fighting. Hal explained. "They are getting to know each other."

Nodding, Lando brought the blaster down and put it back in his sleeve. "Are we under arrest?"

Hal shook his head. "No."

"Do we still get paid?"

"Sure, so long as you two meet with someone for us. After that, you'll be free to go. We have no intention of seeing another Corellian subjugated to Imperial justice."

Lando liked that answer and sat down next to Hal. "While they're busy, would you like to play some sabbac?"

Hal got a twinkle in his eye. He was the reigning CorSec sabbac wizard. He saw an easy way to make some extra credits for this trip. Maybe pay for some anger management courses for Corran. "Why, that sounds like fun. I must warn you, I don't play very well."

Three hours later, Lando was counting his chips. "You were right, you don't play very well."

Hal grimaced and turned his attention to the passageway. "They've been awfully quiet for awhile. You think they're dead?"

"Now, I'm not a native of your planet, but I find it very hard to believe that a Corellian could be killed so easily," Lando remarked with a smile. The two men stood up and moved to the cargo area. Several containers were broken open and there were bloodstains on the bulkheads and deck plates. In the corner, two bruised, broken and bloody men were examining a blaster.

"Nothing beats the BlasTech DL-44," Dash said, handing the weapon over to Corran. "Easy to modify, too."

Corran tried to hold it, but it fell out of his grip. "I think my fingers are broken," he laughed.

Dash giggled at the comment. "You're okay, CorSec. You take a butt-whipping pretty well."

"You're butt got whipped, deserter," was the reply. Dash winced when he noticed that several teeth were missing from Corran's mouth. 

"I'm really sorry about the kick to the teeth," he offered. Corran waved it away and told him that once they got to Corellia, their benefactor would see to it that he was treated with the best medical care.

"I take it you two are friends now?" Lando asked.

Dash looked over at him and Lando saw that his left eye was completely swollen shut. "We have an understanding now. We're going to see Garm Bel Iblis."

"The Imperial senator?"

Dash nodded and wiped some blood from his chin. "He wants to offer us a job or something."

"And you agreed to meet with him?" Lando asked, not believing what he was hearing. "You have a fifty thousand credit bounty on your head in the form of an official Imperial death warrant and you want to go have a talk with a member of the legislature?"

"Hey, it's Garm Bel Iblis!" Dash responded. "This is a Corellian thing."

Lando just shook his head and turned to return to the cockpit, spouting questions to whatever deity was listening at the moment.


	5. Chapter 4

Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior

By Christopher W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2002 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2002 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.

**CHAPTER 4**

Mon Mothma quietly observed her daughter typing way at the terminal, running through inventories and slicing new quantities in to show lower volumes than there actually was. After each list, she then typed up a "shopping list" of the goods she wanted procured and handed them off to See-Threepio. "Forgive me for asking, Mistress Mara, but my morality and ethical programming is having trouble reconciling your reasons for having me deliver these lists by hand; I must ask again if what we are doing is legal?"

Mara blew a crimson lock of hair off of her nose and did not bother to look up. "Threepio, quit worrying about things your programming cannot understand," she snapped. She mentally kicked herself again for not having those programs wiped out or at least altered. Then again, maybe she needed the golden protocol droid's constant badgering to help maintain her moral center.

"Of course, Mistress Mara, I only meant to point out that the legality of these actions might be considered suspect…"

She looked over at him and raised her eyebrows. "Are you still here? Go! Shoo! Get that flimsy down to Mr. Antilles at the docking bay before it gets late."

Talon Karde slipped in behind Mon Mothma. "She's very dedicated at what she does. I don't think I've ever seen anyone with so much energy."

She smiled at the compliment. "As I said, she's a very special girl."

"Indeed," he said, stroking his beard. He had observed many unusual behaviors from Mara over the past few weeks of working with her. She was a natural talent when it came to world of supply and demand, able to coordinate shipments of stolen Imperial goods from a dozen different sources to a hundred different cells. Each day, more information kept coming in of individual groups that had fallen under the banner of the Alliance and every day, Mara committed the information to memory, leaving no trail for any Imperial to follow.

There were other things about her as well that didn't seem to fit with a president's pampered daughter. Her beauty was only accentuated by the fitness of her body, and every morning she put herself through an exercise routine that would put a Crimson Guardsman in the medical ward. She was an acrobat, a gymnast, a martial artist and a marksman, too. 

Mara also seemed to be able to sense when someone was approaching her. Several times during his stay in the presidential palace, Talon had hoped to strike up a meaningful conversation with her, but she stopped him dead in his tracks. Before he could even get through the door, she would call out that she was busy. "She's Force-talented, isn't she?" he asked in a low tone.

Mon Mothma wondered how long it would take Karde to figure it out. The man was sharp, there was no doubt about it, and had been well worth the credits she had to pay to Xizor to secure his cooperation in this venture. Karde had all of the makings of a politician, except that he preferred the more dangerous side of the galaxy as opposed to the senate chamber. "She is not really my daughter. That is all I wish to say."

Talon respected the president's privacy and tucked the information away for further scrutiny. "We will be leaving this week," he announced.

The president sighed. "I had hoped to delay your departure a while longer, for I fear it will be some time before I get to spend any time with her again."

Talon put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You have my word she will be well protected. I have my resources; they are not vast, at least not yet, but I will see to it that she receives the best of care."

Mon Mothma turned to him and saw the mischievous glint in Talon's eye. She had seen such a look only once before and that had been on the face of her good friend Bail Organna. The Viceroy of Alderaan had been just as awestruck when he had first laid eyes upon a young queen of the Naboo. A queen named Padme Amidala. "I'm sure you will, Mr. Karde; however, let me warn you of one thing: Mara is very difficult to read. Do not confuse simple friendship for something else."

Talon did understand. He had no intentions of doing anything untoward in regards to Mara. She was attractive and hard working, but if all she was interested in was a business relationship, that was fine, too. Anything beyond the profits of this venture was simply extra nuts on the spice cake. "I will assign a bodyguard to her and we will have to develop a new identity for her. Being your daughter, she is probably well-known throughout the Empire."

"Not at all," she corrected him. "I have kept her away from both Imperial Center and the holocams since she was sixteen. Her hair is longer, a shade more fiery and she has, well, developed quite a bit since."

"Indeed," Talon said with a small bow. "Nevertheless, I will have an identity made up for her. I have some slicer contacts that will get the job done. Of course, I will have to say she comes from a remote planet. It would help if I knew where her real parents came from…"

Mon Mothma sighed. "Coruscant."

Talon made no comment on the use of the former name of Imperial Center. It did, however, confirm his suspicions about Mara. Coruscant had been the seat of Jedi power in the Old Republic and now he was convinced that Mara was the daughter of a Jedi Knight. The information that Talon no possessed guaranteed him a lavish lifestyle of comfort and debauchery if he chose to use it right now. Hesitation brought the promise of a torturous death, most likely at the hands of Darth Deceptra herself.

The adventure that hung before him was much too tempting. He was quite happy with his current business arrangement. Besides, if the Rebellion did succeed, he would be known as a good friend and that essentially meant more profit.

"I have contracted the services of a Wookie hunter named Chewbacca. He is a proud warrior among his people that wishes to see the galaxy." Talon produced a small data pad for Mon Mothma's inspection. "As you can see, he is utterly loyal and comes with the highest possible recommendations. His payment is to be Chandrillian support for an upcoming bill in the Senate. Seeing as how your two peoples have always gotten along anyway…"

She nodded her approval. "I know of the bill and I was going to provide my support regardless, though I am afraid it still will not pass."

Talon's eyes sparkled, telling Mon Mothma that the younger man had more information than he was letting on. "Let's just say that several Wookie warriors are being contracted out this year. It is a very important bill and the Wookies are calling in all of the favors owed to them by their people."

"He is to be Mara's bodyguard?"

Talon nodded and accepted his data pad back. "He has sworn an oath of protection; it does not carry the same weight as a life debt, but he will loyally watch over her until she dismisses him." He noted that she seemed to relax a bit. The Wookies were fierce combatants, but were also renown throughout the galaxy for their close family ties and dedication to honor. Few species could claim such distinction.

Certainly not humans, she thought. "When will he arrive?"

"We are meeting him on Corellia," Talon remarked. "We are stopping there to pick Mara out a ship to use for her own personal business. If she is going to be my second-in-command, then she needs to be out there checking out the things that are going on." He then smiled sheepishly. "Will she require a lightsaber, madam?" he asked, digging for information.

Mon Mothma returned the grin. "Only to defend you from me if you hurt her."

The son of Darth Maul sat alone in his mother's office, a small room with a single light and a table that Malakie had pushed up against the wall. He sat cross-legged in the center of the room, the light off so that he was enveloped by the darkness. Still, if any person were unfortunate enough to step into the room while the young man was in his meditative state, the y would note that an even darker blackness seemed to radiate from him, threatening to overwhelm the natural absence of light.

Malakie's mind drifted away from his physical body by using a Jedi meditation technique. The Jedi taught that complete relaxation was necessary to achieve oneness with the Force. Malakie found that by focusing his rage and anger into one single thought, he could achieve mastery, not symbiosis, with the Force.

He took the painful feeling of abandonment he felt for being left to wither and die on Dathomir and combined it with the great sorrow he felt for never having even gotten o know his father. Over this he placed his rage towards Emperor Palpatine, who Malakie felt had turned away from the true path of the Dark Side. The stories he had heard of the Great Sith War and the Freedon Nadd Uprising had convinced that the most powerful of dark Lords were warriors, not politicians that his behind their operatives. If Palpatine was so mighty, why did he not face the Jedi himself when they went to Korriban? Had Palpatine been there with his disciples, then maybe Darth Maul would be here to train his son.

Malakie's conciseness floated up and out of the prison facility, riding the tendrils of the Force. Dathomir was rich in life and Malakie's mind's eye could see that life reaching up to the stars, welcoming the nourishing sunlight from the system's primary star. He felt the pulse of life in the upper atmosphere and past the canopy that held in the life-giving oxygen. 

Still farther his mind came up against another, more subtle intrusion into the Force and at once Malakie realized that this was the mind of Palpatine. Palpatine maintained control over his forces, directed their actions, by constantly sending a stream of minute impressions throughout the galaxy. He did not control as so much suggest courses of action. The minds of most military officers and loyal citizens had been stupefied through the New Order's propaganda campaign.

Malakie briefly considered severing Palpatine's thin, thread-like link to the fleet of Admiral Zsinj and smiled when he thought of the chaos that would ensue. Zsinj himself was probably not under any type of suggestion; Malakie's impression of the man was that he was a career military officer with a strong dedication to the Empire. Loyalty did not necessarily mean a particularly strong mind.

Malakie had seen pictures of star destroyers but now his Force-empowered senses took in the whole of the massive vessels. He could feel the life from within them, the thousands of beings that resided on board. Each one had a different motive for being there, a different outlook on life and a whole different set of principles. Another being would be fascinated, but Malakie was just simply bored. They were herd animals, waiting to either be moved to a new pasture or to be led to the Empire's slaughterhouse; they mattered little to him.

It took him some time to determine which vessel Zsinj was on, but he found it easily enough once he determined that Palpatine's thoughts intensified around one certain ship. Somehow, Malakie heard the name of it, the _Wraith_. It was a _Imperial_-Class vessel, a wedge-shaped harbinger of death that hovered over the blue-green-brown world of Dathomir. Malakie skirted past Palpatine's influence and sent his own mind racing through the passageways. He felt the discipline of the stormtroopers, the brashness of the fighter pilots and the dismay of the prisoners. 

He stopped suddenly and backtracked, reaching out again for the minds of the prisoners. He found it odd that they would be here in space and not down in the facility on the planet and he wondered if they were to be new inmates or were they simply military prisoners. A quick study of their drug-hazed and pain-filled minds told him all he needed to know. They were Rebel agents found out to be hiding within the military structure itself.

Hiding in plain sight had been how Palpatine had amassed his power. Posing as a simple senator from Naboo, the man once known as Darth Sideous had weaved an intricate plan of deceit and deception that had, in one fell swoop, allowed him to create and army and use it against the hated Jedi. Only they Jedi had been strong enough to keep the Sith at bay and it was Darth Maul's famous victory over Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi on Naboo that had been the catalyst for the New Order.

Malakie felt in his bones that had his father been killed on Naboo, then Palpatine would never have achieved power in the Republic senate. Without a worthy apprentice, Palpatine would have died in obscurity and taken the Sith down with him. It was Palpatine's arrogance that infuriated Malakie and gave him even more power in the Force.

His mind traveled between the molecules and atoms of the decks and bulkheads of the star destroyer, seeking the mind of the commander of the Imperial fleet. Zsinj's greedy thoughts sang out to Malakie, drawing him in like a siren's call. The would-be Sith made contact, repulsed to find Zsinj in the process of coupling with one of his female clerks. Such an act during a time of readiness showed weakness and it was the path that Malakie needed to travel into the roots of Zsinj's brain.

Lust was a powerful weapon if used correctly, as Malakie had learned in his own escapades on Dathomir. It wasn't that Zsinj was having sex; Malakie understood the baser needs of all sentients. It was that he was doing it in the middle of a duty cycle, for his mind was absorbing information from every person he passed in the Force. In the time span of seconds, Malakie had absorbed so much knowledge that he feared he would pass out.

Truly his rage was up now and he tore through that which was Zsinj's personality and decimated it. Like a carnivore tearing into the meaty flanks of its prey, Malakie gorged himself on that which was Zsinj. In the blink of an eye, Malakie found himself carnally engaged with the clerk, seeing what Zsinj was seeing, feeling what the officer felt.

The power of the Dark Side made him strong and by thought alone, Malakie had Zsinj reach out and strangle the clerk while she was in throes of passion. He felt her life slip away, but there was no dismay from Zsinj, for Zsinj was gone. All that he was now resided in the brain of Malakie.

There was a price, though, because he would have to maintain the link with Zsinj until he could secure a shuttle and bring it to the planet. Eventually, he would have to release the man and leave him in his vegetative state. That didn't bother Malakie because now he saw Zsinj for what he really was, a small man who his behind his uniform. All of his life, Zsinj had used privilege as a sword and a shield and Malakie had nothing but contempt for the man.

Somehow, he knew that Zsinj's thoughts would be with him forever and a valuable lesson was learned. He possessed the power to pull the man from the brain, but that man lived with him forever. Deep in the back of his mind, Malakie could hear the faint voice of Zsinj screaming in rage at the rape and violation of his life. Malakie took that rage and added it to his own. Had he been properly trained, he would have realized that the stealing of the mind technique was very rarely used by the Sith for it had dire consequences. 

Eventually, Zsinj's state would be discovered and an investigation would be launched. No doubt, Palpatine would dispatch his whore Darth Deceptra. Malakie almost welcomed the chance to confront his father's killer, but as an untrained adept, he knew that he could not win. One day, according to his mother, who seemed to have a new spring in her step, they would triumph over Palpatine and rule the galaxy.

One that day, Malakie would have his vengeance.

The body that was called Zsinj got up and moved away from the still warm corpse of the clerk. The body had no memories, no remembrance of emotions shared, only the tingling sensation that came from sexual union. Quickly, under the complete control of the mind of Darth Maul's son, the body dressed and exited the room.

The two stormtroopers at the ready looked into the room and saw the body, but said nothing. Later, they would dispose of it and file it away as an unfortunate training accident. That was their job, after all; they protected Zsinj's body and reputation. Nothing was allowed to endanger any aspect of one of the Emperor's favorite officers.

The mind controlling the body moved briskly down the passages, relying on the memories of the man who once was the body to guide it to the bridge. Any unfortunate to step in the admiral's way was bowled over, receiving a kick from the stormtroopers for good measure as they went by. Zsinj's actions were not normal, the stormtroopers decided, but remained silent as they had been trained. Of the admiral decided to kill everyone on board, the white-armored soldiers would help him and even turn their weapons on themselves if so ordered.

On the bridge, the body spoke aloud, not to any person in particular. "I want a shuttle sent down to the planet right now to get the warden and her son. I wish to see them immediately."

An officer stepped up and spoke to the admiral in a lowered voice. "Sir, our standing orders from the Emperor state that we cannot bring any of the Nightsisters up off of the planet surface." 

A memory flickered in the body's brain. "Commander Palleon, who is in command here?"

Palleon stuck his chin out. "You are, sir."

"Then carry out my damn orders!" the body screamed. Palleon jumped back a few steps, a normal reaction when one looked at the expression of rage on Zsinj's face. The other officer turned and nodded into the pit, the lower area where the ship's functions were carried out. Within a few moments, the body was pleased to see a _Lambda_-Class shuttle shooting down towards the planet's surface.


	6. Chapter 5

Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior

By Christopher W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2002 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2002 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.

**CHAPTER 5**

"I love the smell of Corellia," Dash said with sarcasm. He looked around the small room that he found himself in. The meeting with Garm Bel Iblis was indeed taking place on their home world, high up in orbit aboard an aging _Victory_-Class star destroyer that was part of the Corellian Home Defense Force. "Be nice if I could get down on the planet and enjoy it."

Hal shrugged. "We can't take any chances; you heard about who's coming, didn't you?" The elder law enforcement officer could see that Dash hadn't. Lando leaned over and whispered something into his friend's ear. Dash was not impressed.

"Pretty boys is all they are," he said with disgust. He leaned his chair back and put his feet up on the table. Lando gave him a wary eye, but said nothing. "TIE pilots always think they're the top of the food chain. They forget about the guys who do the real work, the grunts."

"Ah, the lamentations of the down-trodden," a tall, bearded man said as he stepped into the room behind a burly CorSec officer. "I suppose that was why you deserted from the ranks of the stormtroopers; you didn't get the respect you deserved." Garm Bel Iblis smiled and then turned his gaze to the feet set upon the table. Suddenly feeling embarrassed, Dash brought them down and sat up.

Bel Iblis sat down in the remaining seat, nodding slightly to Hal. The elder Horn smiled and returned the gesture. "Mr. Rendar, you realize that your reputation proceeds you? Of course you do, but I wonder if you realize the responsibility that comes with that reputation?"

Dash considered his answer, trying to get a read off of the Imperial senator and then the other men seated at the table. Whatever was going on, nobody was stepping up to help him out. "I'm not really sure I understand, senator." Dash was still slightly in awe of Bel Iblis. Though the man was a member of the Imperial Senate, he was also a hero of Corellia, a man who tirelessly fought in the political arena against all of his home world's enemies. In the days before the Empire, it was said he was a strong political opponent of the then Senator Palpatine, which only added to the mystique of the man. "I may be an outlaw, on the run from a military that practices terror…a military sanctioned by your senate," he added with some bravado, "but you won't find a more loyal Corellian in the galaxy."

The senator smiled wide. "Of that I have no doubt, Mr. Rendar, and as far as your opinion of the Imperial military, I couldn't agree more." Lando suppressed a gasp, but still managed to make a squeak that drew Dash's attention. "We're Corellians gentlemen, so let us dispense with the niceties. I am a member of the rebellion against the Empire. The time has come for the worlds of the galaxy to unite to throw off the yoke of oppression. The Empire is choking the life out of our planet and I will not stand by to watch it happen."

Dash felt dizzy and reached for the glass of water. "Rebellion? Is there a rebellion?"

Hal spoke up. "Dash, we don't have time for games. We need you for something very important."

"Yes, we have a mission for you and Mr. Calrissian," Bel Iblis added.

"What kind of mission?" Lando asked as Dash refilled his glass. It was one thing to desert from the military, it was entirely something else to wage war against it. "We're not activists, you know."

Bel Iblis turned to Hal. "Did I not just hear about how loyal to Corellia they were?"

Hal shrugged. "That's what I heard."

Dash finally interrupted after wiping his mouth on his arm. "Senator, sir, if you know about my military record, then you know about my love for my home. You also know that I'm a wanted man with a price on my head. I can't operate very well for you, not that I would."

Bel Iblis leaned in close, but there was no malice in his posture. He understood men like Dash Rendar, men who had ideals they did not want to admit to. Many men considered things like compassion and honor a weakness somehow. Perhaps it was the way the galaxy was now, that even good-hearted people felt the need to add a little darkness to their appearance. "Mr. Rendar, you must help us. You have become something of a legend to the people of Corellia, those who haven't become starry-eyed looking at the images of Soontir Fel and Han Solo. To the poor, to those who are recognized only as labor for the great Imperial machine, you are the hero."

Dash started to shake his head, but Hal stopped him. "It's true. Every month, the bounty on your head goes up and the people of Corellia cheer a little longer. Most of the officers in CorSec are behind you, though officially we have vowed to bring you in."

Dash started to blush and rubbed his beard. "I'm nobody…"

"That is how a somebody generally starts, Mr. Rendar," Bel Iblis commented. "You left the Imperial military because of a moral objection."

A memory flashed briefly into Dash's mind and Lando caught a familiar look cross Dash's eyes. "Both of us have objections to the Empire, but that doesn't mean we're willing to throw our lives away…"

"The Empire has developed a battle station, a globe of malice called the Death Star," Bel Iblis started. His voice was strong as he went over what technical details he knew. "It is 120 kilometers at the equator and possesses more firepower than half of the Imperial fleet. It also has a super laser capable of destroying a planet."

Dash said nothing but instead made a religious gesture. Lando shook his head, silently figuring out the cost of such a project. Bel Iblis's next comment nearly choked him. "They are building an even larger one that will be completed within the next three years."

"It's impossible!" Dash exclaimed. Deep inside, though, especially after all of the horrors he experienced in the service of the Emperor, he knew just how possible it really was. "Why would they need something like that?"

"Fear. These battle stations will allow the Emperor to rule by decree instead of through the legislature. I fully expect the senate to be disbanded within the month, power will be turned over to the Moffs." Bel Iblis stood up and walked over to a corner of the room where he pulled out a small cigar. "I only learned this because I have an old friend on the military appropriations committee who is about to retire. I cannot and will not stand by and allow Corellia to be ruled by an outsider."

"So, this is a Corellian matter?" Dash asked with sarcasm.

"Every member of the rebellion likes to talk about freeing the galaxy, but its all about home. Yes, I want to see the Emperor brought down and a reestablishment of the Old Republic, but my concern is, in the end, about home." He took a drag off of the cigar. "Are you interested?"

"In what? I sympathize, but Lando and I are planning on heading out into the Corporate Sector for awhile," Dash said, turning to Lando for support. He wasn't too assured by the look that he received. What his partner was thinking was beyond him for the moment. "You don't expect me to try and take out the Death Star do you? You're the one with a star destroyer."

"When the Emperor strips us of our sovereignty, I will be taking portions of the Home Defense Fleet and heading into the Unknown Regions," Bel Iblis explained. "The hope is to draw some of the Imps out and away from the Core. Agent Horn will coordinate efforts here on the planet and then we would like you to be part of our special forces."

"Senator, can I talk with him for a few minutes?" Lando suddenly asked. Bel Iblis eyed Horn who nodded very slowly. The two government men then left the small office and Lando turned to his friend. "Look, Dash…"

"Hey, this is a partnership, buddy; I know how you feel about getting involved…"

Lando shook his head and laid both of his hands flat in the table. "Dash, it isn't that. I got a response back on that job on Bespin I applied for. You know, the Baron Administrator?"

Dash began to understand his friend's earlier hesitation. "I guess you're going to take it, eh?" It made little sense not to as Dash pointed out. "You don't have a price on your head yet and basically have a reputable name. Something worth saving. Hell, I don't blame you for leaving."

Lando looked out of place, like a poor man at the Emperor's court. "Dash, this is all big military stuff and you can act like you don't care all you want, but I can see it in your eyes. You want to join up, but you haven't because of me."

"That isn't it; look, we've got that debt to Xizor to worry about…"

Lando held up a hand. "My new employers forwarded me enough credits to square it with Xizor, plus I've arranged for a sweet little bit of black market trade in Tibanna gas from Bespin. The debt is gone, you're a free man once again."

"I'm gonna need a copilot," Dash thought as he rubbed his chin in thought. Not many smugglers would be willing to give up the lucrative trade of illegal transport to help out the rebellion. Dash suddenly realized that he was already thinking of himself as part of it. "Did you believe that stuff about me being a hero and all?"

Lando laughed. "You're so full of yourself! Yeah, I do believe it. You aren't just some gun for hire, Dash; you help people, and you don't care what laws get broken to do it." Lando leaned back, relieved that his friend was not angry with him. "Maybe Dengar will take second seat on the _Outrider_."

"Not with the price on my head; it doesn't do a lot of good for a bounty hunter to hang out with the bounty, now does it?" Dash drummed his fingers on the table. "I could get a droid."

"There are some good droids out there," Lando remarked, suddenly thinking he had made the wrong decision. His dream had always been to become legitimate, to be a big-shot with class, but flying around the galaxy with Dash had been a blast. He also knew he would do a lot more good for the galaxy of he stuck with his younger friend.

Lando was not a particularly religious man, but he did put some stock in the ancient Jedi religion of the Force. He remembered a Jedi Knight from his youth, long before the purges, who had said that sometimes destiny takes you along a path you don't want to follow. He felt that way now, as if a piece of him were dying for the betterment of the universe as a whole. 

He knew that in order for both of them to grow, he and Dash had to separate. "I was going to tell you in a better setting, but since they won't let you on the planet, I figured I better do it here."

 Dash nodded and the two sat in silence, contemplating the future for several minutes before Bel Iblis and Hal Horn reentered the room. Both men noted the somewhat somber change in the air between the two friends, but realized that there were no hard feelings between them. The truth was that Bel Iblis was quite aware of Lando's recent luck. "Is there anything we should know?"

Dash looked up. "I'm not promising anything, but if it means helping out Corellia, then I'm in."

Several hours later and in the onboard cabin of Garm Bel Iblis, Dash continued his conversation with the renegade senator. "If I'm going to be part of this, then I'm going to need to know everything. I spent too long in the dark when I was a stormtrooper."

Bel Iblis indicated that Dash should sit in a large easy chair. Both men sipped at Corellian spiced ales. "Not just a stormtrooper; you were being considered for inclusion in the Crimson Guard if I remember correctly. But, you opted for special mission training instead. Why?"

Dash shrugged. "I wanted to do something important. I don't know…everything started getting so screwed up after Mon Calamari. When I saw how…how passive the Mon Cals were…I had always been stationed in the deep Core. I guess I was sheltered from the realities of the Empire."

"Yes, there a so many things out in the galaxy that nobody wants to talk about. If it wasn't for Deceptra, I can only imagine that slavery of non-humans would be rampant. Instead, the Empire merely slaughters those who will not abide by second-class citizen status."

Taking a deep breath, Dash dared to ask the question that had burning his tongue for quite some time. "Sir, I've heard a rumor that you knew Deceptra before she became…"

"So dark?" Bel Iblis asked with a smile. "Oh, that was so many years ago, Dash, back in the days of the Old Republic. Yes, I knew her and respected her for her opinions, even if they were contrary to what I believed. She had been a senator from the planet Naboo. Her name was Padme Amidala."

Dash scratched his head. "I've never heard of Naboo."

"The Emperor had the planet removed from all star charts and quarantined the entire sector. I couldn't tell you if the planet was still there or not. Naboo had two senators in the Republic senate, one representing the human population and another representing the Gunguns."

"So, you were friends with her?"

"Hardly; she did, however, attract the attention of many a suitor. She was beautiful, still is in a dark sort of way, and it was her allure that helped bring down the Republic. She captured the heart of a young Sith Lord named Anakin Skywalker…Luke Skywalker's father, who also went by the name Darth Vader. Vader and Padme were seemingly meant for each other and he soon began to train her in the ways of the Force."

Dash snickered and Bel Iblis shot him a cold glance. The pilot quieted. "That's an Imperial education making you laugh, Rendar! The Force exists. I remember the Jedi Knights. Many of them were aloof, self-assured bastards, but there were also great thinkers and philosophers among them."

Getting up to get another ale, Dash kept questioning his host. "You said 'suitors'; who else was after her?"

"Bail Organna of Alderaan was madly infatuated with her, despite the great difference in their ages. In fact, because of his feelings for her, Bail has given up any attempt to join with us in a rebellion." Bel Iblis shook his head in disgust. "Damn old fool! That witch knows it, too! She'll keep playing with his heart until he dies."

"He still loves her? Doesn't he know about her…well, more lustful tastes? The rumor in the academy was she was insatiable," Dash said as he sat back down, a bit of foam on his upper lip.

"When a man is in love, he will do strange things. Which is why I need you so desperately." Bel Iblis got up and walked over to his desk and picked up a folder filled with flimsy. He handed it over to Dash. "I want you to kidnap someone."

"I've been trained for that, though I've never actually done it," Dash said, glad to finally being given a purpose. He wondered how this kidnapping would help out his planet. It was probably some bigwig Imperial officer or even the Moff that would be put in charge of Corellia right after the Emperor disbanded the senate. He looked inside to see and old style hardcopy photograph of a young teenaged girl. "Who's the dish?"

"Princess Leia Mothma Organna of Alderaan."

"Forgive my ignorance, but could you tell me exactly how this helps us?"

Bel Iblis sighed. "I'm about to tell you something that is only known to three other people in the galaxy. Not even the Emperor knows this and if he did, there would be hell to pay. You know how Luke Skywalker is the son of Darth Deceptra?" Dash nodded that he did know that as it was one of the most advertised facts in the Empire. "The princess is his twin sister and heir to Jedi."

Several choice swear words filled Dash's mouth, coming out so fast that Bel Iblis would have needed a protocol droid to translate it all. "Does she know?"

Bel Iblis shook his head. "No. The plan was to send her to be trained as a Jedi Knight as soon as suspicion was off of Bail. He's convinced, though, that Deceptra is keeping a constant eye on him. I'm afraid he's gone quite mad in his old age."

"Then he never had a relationship with Mon Mothma?"

"No. Bail has no room in heart except for Deceptra. He is convinced that she can be turned from the Dark Side and be returned to the woman she once was." Bel Iblis suddenly looked very old. "I'm afraid that young lady is gone. A shame, really…"

"I still don't understand why we need to kidnap her…the princess, I mean." Dash looked back to the picture and could see the resemblance between mother and daughter. The princess was probably six to seven years younger than him, but that mattered little to Dash. He remembered briefly his encounter with the cantina waitress and realized that he may have a penchant for younger women. "Maybe I'm supposed to be from Alderaan," he whispered.

"I certainly hope not," Bel Iblis blanched. "The plan is to have Leia trained as a Jedi."

"That requires, I assume, a teacher of some sort?" Dash asked with a grin.

"Yes it does, Commander Rendar," Bel Iblis said with a smile. It was a commission in word only, as the rebellion still did not have a formal military. If the senator form Corellia had his way, however, that would soon change. "I understand with Calrissian's departure for the civilian sector, you are in need of a copilot?"

"I really haven't put much thought…"

"Excellent!" Bel Iblis said with a clap. "I have the perfect candidate! You remember young Corran Horn?"

"The kid? He's barely out of diapers!"

"Gave you a fight, didn't he?" came the sarcastic reply. "Regardless, we need him to get some real field work. We don't expect many defectors from the Imperial special forces, seeing as how disciplined they are." There was a brief pause and Dash snickered. "Sure," he said with a smile.

"If his father is allowing it, Dash, then it has to mean something. Hal Horn is the best law enforcement officer in the Empire…in the galaxy. The Corporate Sector has long tried to recruit him for their own security forces. " He then turned and pointed out of the window in the stateroom to the planet below. "But he stays because he, like us, loves this world. Not just this world, but Drall and Selonia and all of the other worlds of this sector. We were all together long before the Republic, long before the Empire and will outlast the next government to come along!"

Dash felt a stirring in his breast as his heart seemed to skip a beat. He felt like a young fifteen year-old boy again, sending off the application that would get him into the stormtrooper academy on Carida. He remembered how patriotic he had felt that morning, how he knew that what he was doing was going to safeguard the galaxy and his home.

This time, however, he had the benefit of feeling this way with a large dose of experience to back it up. 

"You leave in the morning. I wish I could let you go down to the planet, but you understand. If you ever want to live free on Corellia again, Dash, then the Empire must come down."

Dash nodded and looked out at his home world. For the first time in a long time, he knew exactly what he was doing.


	7. Chapter 6

Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior

By Christopher W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2002 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2002 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.

**CHAPTER 6**

"My daughter is spirited, my lord, but by no means does she intend disrespect by her words," Bail Organna said from a low bow before the holographic representation of the Emperor. "Leia is single-minded in her devotion to the people of the Empire."

Palpatine's blue-green visage nodded slowly. The Sith master was licking his lips as he thought of the Alderaanian princess. She reminded Palpatine very much of another fiery young woman from many years before. "Youthful exuberance is to be commended among the Empire's elite, Viceroy, but slander against her rightful ruler cannot go ignored."

Bail took a second to glance over at his daughter, who was standing a respectful distance away with her head lowered and her hands behind her back. Next to her stood two security men armed with stun batons. "As I said, my daughter meant no disrespect to you, my lord, only that she is displeased by recent events. The Empire has vast resources that she would like to perhaps see more evenly distributed to the poorer worlds."

"Perhaps she would prefer that we reduce the security on these worlds, let their individual governments collapse?" Palpatine waited for a response; he half expected the princess to march forward and shake her finger in his image's face. She didn't, but through the Force, he could feel her rage. He detected something else as well when he prodded her life essence, something familiar. He supposed it was simply her legacy, being the product of the union of Bail Organna and Mon Mothma.

Both former Old Republic senators had been political peers of then Senator Palpatine and he had even developed something of a friendship with Bail. All of that changed, however, after the deaths of Darth Vader and Darth Maul. Bail had become withdrawn, removing himself from politics except for the Viceroyship of Alderaan. The master of the Empire knew exactly what the reason was.

Darth Deceptra.

"Nobody wishes to see chaos, my lord; Leia was just expressing her views. You do wish your legislators to speak their minds, do you not?" Bail hoped he had not overstepped his limits.

Palpatine paused, considering whether or not to let his old friend know that the senate was no more, that Leia Organna's title was nothing more than a prefix of no worth. She was soon to be nothing more than a damsel trapped in a castle, waiting for some knight to rescue her. Secretly, Palpatine had always hoped that young Skywalker would have formed some sort of union with the daughter of Bail Organna. It was not to be, for Bail had kept Leia as far away from Luke Skywalker as possible. 

Too many painful memories he supposed. Maybe it would be easier just to kill them all, but then he had no real reason to do so. Alderaan was far too rich; certainly the Empire would survive without it's aid, but it would be a heavy drain to maintain garrisons there. "What I wish, Viceroy, is proper respect for my station! If your daughter wants to feed the poor, then let her pull the money from her own dowry! However, I do not ever wish to hear her make another disparaging remark about me again!"

"Then tell me I'm a liar, my lord!" Leia finally called out and Palpatine nearly smiled at her fury. She was far outmatched in this battle of wills, but he admired her tenacity. "I merely said that you didn't care about the plight of Gammoreans! They are a sentient race that is being exploited by the Empire in what can only be called as slave labor!"

"Are they not paid, young princess? Do they complain? Are you the voice of their conscience? Who is violating them now?"

Leia stepped forward to stand next to her paling father. "They are rounded up and coerced and tricked into indentured servitude that there is no possible way for them to get out of! They sign contracts drawn up by Imperial lawyers!"

"And if there were a problem, wouldn't the distinguished senator from their home world petition the senate for justice?" the Emperor retorted with a cackle. "With your words you speak the true nature within your heart, young Leia. You believe the Gammoreans to be too…intellectually challenged to be able to decide their own destiny."

Leia took a deep breath, summoning control to her and Palpatine sensed her tap into the Force. It was light, merely brushing against it, not enough to be any threat to him. Strange that he had never detected her ability, as slight as it was, previously. Perhaps she was one of those individuals whose potential was intertwined with their character. Such people were very useful, as Darth Deceptra proved.

When she had been simply Padme Amidala, Deceptra had been a political force to be reckoned with. Despite her young age, she had been able to hold her own against some of the most hardened senators of the Old Republic. The use of the Kaiburr Crystal shard that Palpatine had obtained decades before was the only reason Deceptra could even begin to function as a Dark Lord. Without it, her abilities were far too puny to even be worth considering.

Luckily, Luke Skywalker, Deceptra's son by Darth Vader, proved to be very powerful in the Force. Unlike his father, however, Palpatine had ensured that young Luke wasn't too emotionally attached to his mother. It was the death of Anakin Skywalker's mother that had finally made Darth Vader challenge Darth Maul to a duel. Though such combat was expected in a Sith society, Vader had picked a very inopportune time to have his revenge. It was only through sheer luck, and Bail Organna's timely intervention, that Palpatine even had an apprentice. Without Deceptra, the years of purging the Jedi from the galaxy would have been much harder.

"My lord, dear Emperor Palpatine," Leia said with clenched teeth. Palpatine nodded at her contrition, but realized it was an all an act. She hated the Empire such was her pacifistic upbringing. Maybe he should have stepped in from the beginning, when her identity had been revealed to Palpatine by then Commander Thrawn. Maybe he should have removed her from Bail's hands and placed into one of his many training programs for Force-talented young ladies. Even as Palpatine considered that, he managed to listen to Leia's pleas. "I realize I may seem abrasive at times, but it is only because I want to see the Empire flourish and to do that it needs all of its citizens operating at peak efficiency," she lied.

"Have you considered that perhaps the reason that the universe is so inefficient, as you put it, is because there are too many species not pulling their weight?" Palpatine retorted. He was reminded of conversations many years ago when he had simply been chancellor. Young senator Amidala had come to him to protest his desire to build up the military of the Old Republic. 

The nostalgia was wearing thin on him and he was beginning to tire of this conversation. Political intrigue had been fine before he was master of the galaxy, but now all he required was obedience. Were the young princess on Imperial Center where the rest of the doomed senate was at this moment, and then he could take care of her personally. That brought a wicked smile to his face.

"Because of your father's devotion to the Empire, I will forgive you this time. Furthermore, I am informing you that the Imperial senate will be dissolved later today. I am appointing military governors to most systems." Leia was speechless and Bail put a firm hand on her shoulder. It was not completely unexpected, as the Emperor never followed any legislation he did not want to anyway. The senate was only to placate the more liberal minds of the universe, to prevent outright revolt. Obviously, the Emperor felt very confident in his hold over the universe now. "Viceroy, I trust that I will not need to appoint a moff to Alderaan?"

When he saw how his former comrade paled and nodded, Palpatine knew that telling them was the right decision. Their destiny was in their own hands now and surely this would be enough to quiet even the serpent's tongue of Leia Organna.

"How can you do this? By what right?" Leia practically screamed. "Have you no notion of the responsibilities of the ruler over the ruled?"

Palpatine practically fell over as Leia suddenly surged in the Force. Her strength was far more than what he had believed at first and for a moment he was stunned. How was she able to hide her abilities so? The only way was if she was well versed in deception, but how could she be? What was she hiding?

He cut the transmission and turned to Sate Pestage, his chief advisor. The gaunt man, dressed in pink and yellow robe, bowed his head. "I think that the time has come to make a demonstration of the Organna family, my lord."

"Indeed," Darth Deceptra announced as she entered the Emperor's throne room. Several Dark Side adepts stepped away as she strode through them like a fish in the water. Her cape flowed behind her until she stopped and then almost magically draped itself over her shoulders. 

"There is a great disturbance in the Force," the Emperor said as he moved over to his throne. Deceptra watched as his failing body caused him to move much too slowly. The Dark Side was rotting him away, his body unable to handle the forces at his command. It was not so unusual for human Sith Lords to finally succumb to their own abilities.

She remembered not so many years ago when Palpatine had first taken her as a lover. Compared to the strength of Anakin Skywalker, her former husband, he had been lacking, but engaging in relations with Palpatine was something more than physical. He ravaged his companions through the Force, making the experience permanent. 

You could never forget an evening with the Emperor.

As such, Deceptra's own tastes became close to his and soon she found herself drawn to him like a spice addict. Only through the Force, and the Kaiburr Crystal embedded in her chest, was she able to finally break herself of his hold. That was fine with him, since she was unable to provide the heir her needed for genetic materials.

Palpatine planned to clone himself a new body and transfer his essence into it; a strong, young body that could withstand the Dark Side. Deceptra momentarily looked down at her mechanical right hand and then her left, both victims of the power burning its way free from her mortal shell. 

That was the reason Palpatine had originally taken on a non-human as an apprentice. Darth Maul possessed a body perfectly suited for the rigors of being a true Sith Lord. It had been Palpatine's hope that Maul would have children…

"Have you sensed it, my apprentice?" Palpatine asked her.

Deceptra moved forward to a small platform and bent down on one knee. The Crystal, nested between her breasts, glowed slightly. "I have felt something, my master, but I cannot identify it. It was both familiar and strange at once."

"The young princess Leia Organna is Force-talented, though I do not think she realizes it."

Sate Pestage stifled a cough and Deceptra brought her head up, her dark eye burning with an intensity that matched her artificial one. "The whore child of Bail Organna? She is a Jedi?"

"No, but she has a hidden strength that we must possess or eliminate," the Emperor said as he pondered. He sighed, realizing that whatever friendship, if one could use that term, that he had felt for Bail Organna, would not stop him from obtaining absolute mastery over every living thing. He would be a dark god, he swore. 

"Let me go, master," she begged. The thought of finally being able to let loose her fury against the man she blamed, partially, for the death of her husband, threatened to consume her. "I will determine this princess' worth to the New Order."

"Begging your pardons, my lords," Pestage began, his hands shaking. He had never seen such controlled rage coming from Deceptra. "If Organna is a possible Jedi…"

"There are no more Jedi," he Emperor snapped. "If she has ability, it is undeveloped."

"My mistake, of course, my lord; I only meant to state that she does have a sister," he replied, looking down at the floor. There was a pause and he looked up to see the Emperor nodding. "Mara Organna Mothma has the same bloodline as she does. I have been led to believe that Force-talent is more likely to be hereditary than accidental."

The Emperor closed his eyes. "Yesssssss. I see it now; they knew…they knew all along."

"Who knew what, my master?" Deceptra asked.

"Mothma and Organna; they knew their children were special; that is why they removed themselves from politics, away from me." The Emperor clapped his hands. "Think of it! Two more soldiers for our dark order not tainted with the Jedi core values."

"Leia Organna is a pacifist! She will not be turned," Deceptra said. Her hope was to kill both of them, avenging her long-dead love. 

"Then kill her," Palpatine ordered, tired of having to choose. If he couldn't have her, then he would settle for Mara. New, debased thoughts entered his chaotic mind as he brought up a mental image of the fiery young redhead from Chandrilla. If he let Deceptra kill off the Organna's, then she would be more willing to help out in the training. With Mara properly schooled, she could be paired with Luke Skywalker! "Yes! Go to Alderaan and kill them. Be quick about it, Lady Deceptra."

He then turned his attention to Pestage. "I need Mara Mothma brought to me. You will take of it."

Pestage held his hands up. "She is powerful, my lord; Chandrilla is not Alderaan, they know how to fight there."

"I have a way of contacting an old friend of ours, Pestage, who is not so concerned with such petty details," the Emperor responded before breaking into a fit of mocking, evil laughter.

The dark-haired man pulled out the decrypt key from the terminal and then inserted a small data collector. He waited several moments as the data was dumped, his eyes scanning the area. Nobody seemed to be watching him, but he hadn't expected there to be anyway. To all appearances, he was nothing more than a tourist, enjoying the beauty of the Imperial world of Kuat.

A small tone told him that the download was complete and he made his way away from the terminal before the small explosive device he had set destroyed it. There wasn't enough to cause harm to anyone, but it would successfully eliminate any trace DNA he had left behind.

Fifteen minutes later, he entered the room he was sharing with the older, silver-haired man who was busy cleaning a dart launcher. The resemblance between the two men was uncanny, leaving no doubt that they were related. "Is it what I said it was?" the man asked.

The younger man watched as his father methodically moved his hands over the weapon. Despite his age, well-honed muscles bulged as he did so, indicating a high level of mastery in what he was doing. "It is, father."

"We are back in business, then, are we not Boba?"

Boba Fett shrugged. "We have had a good life, father, but I understand your desire to get back in the game. We are hunters, not to relegated to the duties we had in the Corporate Sector."

"The life of a bounty hunter is the life for me," Jango Fett mused, thinking of a song he had once heard. "Prepare the ship, I'll get our armor and weapons. Where are we headed?"

"The bounty is on Mon Mothma's daughter, Mara," Boba replied flatly.

"A task worthy of us, I think."

Boba hesitated. "Father, can we trust Palpatine? We left for the Corporate Sector because of the war that was brewing. We know too much."

Jango seemed unconcerned. "The Emperor is not concerned. We cannot hurt him, or at least he doesn't think we can." He winked. "What he doesn't know will mean profits for us." 


	8. Chapter 7

Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior

By Christopher W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2002 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2002 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.

**CHAPTER 7**

"Mos Eisley? What the hell, Han?" Luke Skywalker asked as they walked through the streets of the Tatooine spaceport. He sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose from the multitude of odors it encountered. "I thought we were going to hit Corellia?"

Han Solo grinned. "Kid, you can go to Corellia any time if you want to, but I'm here to look into something a little more fun."

Luke rolled his eyes. He was the heir to the Sith and really would have rather been on a more civilized planet, one where they knew who he was and feared him. He was the Emperor's Fist, not that it mattered out here. Tatooine may have been an Imperial world, but it was a long shot from being part of Imperial society.

He reached out with the Force, touching every mind he could. There was a level of criminal intent in every brain and Luke smiled. This was a planet full of people who wanted to rise above their station, but were simply unable to. He was indeed fortunate to be who he was.

The planet itself was not unknown to him; he knew that his father had come from here, but he also knew that his father had left here the first chance he got. "What could there possibly be here?"

"I've got a line on a race, an illegal snubfighter competition." There was a twinkle in Han's eye. "What you've learned in the academy is fine, but that only works against other organized militaries. It's time you put those considerable skills of yours to practical use."

Luke waved him off. "I'm a champion podracer already…"

"Which is nice for a kid, but men fly starfighters," Han replied as they passed by a large, green dewback. The lizard seemed interested in Luke, but he waved his hand and the Force burned the animal's brain into slag. The creature fell dead without so much as a grunt. If Han noticed, he didn't let on. He had gotten used to Luke's quirks, such as not being able to tolerate being gawked at, years before when they had first met.

They were an unlikely pair, best friends but worlds apart save for their skill in piloting. Han came from a poor background, a young man who had lived in virtual slavery to a man who lived on the outside of the law. That man had trained Han to be a pilot and then had entered him in everything from swoop bike competitions to illegal air speeder races. It was during one such race that Han had come to the attention of a young Imperial officer looking for recruits for a very special fighter unit.

That man had been Soontir Fel.

"So where exactly are we going? Are there any girls?"

Han laughed and clapped Luke on the back. "Spoken like a true pilot on his first leave away from mommy!" Han was the only person in the galaxy who could get away with speaking so in front of Luke. There was no doubt about Luke's dedication to his mother, but his friendship with Han was also just as important to him. Deceptra recognized that Luke would need people to serve him in the future whose loyalty was unquestioning, so she suffered Han's relationship with her son. "There will be plenty of time for the women, oh young Dark Lord!"

Luke eyed Han suspiciously. Despite the abilities Luke demonstrated, he knew that Han somehow doubted the existence of the Force. By referring to Luke by the august title of the Sith, he was being condescending. "Just remember, we only have two weeks," Luke reminded him.

They entered a smoky cantina, the jizz band playing a tune that was popular several years before. There was an assortment of species and humans from all over the galaxy and Luke again was put off by the smell. Too long, he supposed, had he been living in the clean, sterile environment of Imperial Center. His father had once, briefly, ruled this world before it was turned over to Moff Tarkin and Luke had to ask himself again why his father would have wanted to?

Tatooine was a bleak, dry world with no real redeeming value now that the Imperial weapons facility was gone. His mother had told him that Tatooine had been a special place to his father. Luke now saw how much of a weakness that was. Luke felt that only things that helped you were of value. It was the entire sum of those things that made you powerful. Luke had his mother, the Emperor, Han and the Dark Side. 

With these things, he reasoned he could be the most powerful person in the galaxy.

He moved over to the bar with Han, but then his friend told him he would be back and then disappeared into the haze and bodies that filled the cantina. A young waitress walked by in a skirt that was far too short. She gave him a smile and he turned to watch her pass, giving her backside an approving nod. When he turned back around, a nightmarish blue face confronted him. The "walrus man" as the people of Ando were known, had large eyes and twin tusks, and his breath reeked of a cross between ale and fish. It barked something at him and Luke raised an eyebrow.

His mother had taught him that many of the galaxy's species were worthy of respect, that they had something to offer to the overall order of the galaxy. Luke sensed that the Emperor did not entirely agree with this policy and was perhaps more hawkish in his dealings with non-humans. This creature was offending him and for a brief moment, Luke considered just walking away. That would have made Han happy as the other pilot was trying to maintain a low profile. There were no Imperial troops garrisoned on Tatooine anymore, which made the world not exactly the safest place for two Imperial pilots.

A heavily scarred human stepped up, his odor equally foul. "He doesn't like you," the man said with a crooked smile.

"I don't care," Luke responded, trying to turn around and put down the rage that was building within him. Any other world in the galaxy and these two sentient bacterium would have been cut down by stormtroopers for getting so close to him.

The man put a hand on Luke's shoulder and spun him around. "I don't like you either! You better watch yourself…I have the death sentence in twelve systems!"

Luke took a deep breath and stood up to his full height, which brought him close to the man's own. He regarded the face and searched his memory. Surely someone as twisted as this individual would be easy to recall, especially with such a large bounty on his head. Twelve death sentences, if it were true, would most likely attract the best of the bounty hunters. "Ah, Dr. Evazan I presume? Or, are you going by Dr. Cornelius or Dr. Roofoo today? You have so many aliases, it's hard to keep track." He turned to the Andonian. "And this must be Ponda Baba, your pet."

Baba surged forward, but Evazan held him back with an arm. "You just signed your own death warrant, Imperial pup."

Luke almost laughed at the man when Han came up and tried to diffuse the situation. "Nobody wants any trouble here…"

Baba pushed past his partner and struck Han full force in the chest. Even before his friend started falling, Luke had reached out through the Dark Side and was drawing his lightsaber. With a _snap-woosh_ the dark blade came to life, nearly invisible in the low light of the cantina. Ponda Baba was cleaved neatly in two by the time Han hit the floor.

Evazan went for his blaster and through the red haze of the Dark Side; Luke began to see all of the future actions of the patrons. He saw which ones would involve themselves in the fight, which ones would cower and which ones would sit in admiration of Luke's abilities. 

Luke spun and caught Evazan at the knees, separating both legs at the joint. The lightsaber instantly cauterized the wounds so that there would be no blood. The man who was known affectionately as "Dr. Death" screamed and his blaster went bouncing across the crud-encrusted floor. Someone made to pick it up, but Luke simply grabbed the blaster, turned the muzzle towards the unfortunate fool and pulled the trigger, all through the Force and while parrying another attack from a crazed Ithorian.

The Ithorian was intoxicated, Luke could tell that from the way the creature moved, but he had no mercy in his heart. The established penalty in the Empire for attacking an agent of the Emperor was death and Luke was ready to dish it out. As the alien died from two swift strokes to the torso, Han leapt to Luke's side. "Can't let you have all of the fun!"

Han fired at a human who was pulling out a holdout blaster, all the while the bartended was screaming "No blasters! No blasters!" Luke smiled, enjoying his first bar room brawl. Someone tossed a mug at Luke's head, but he caught it with the Force and sent it back at its owner with enough power to crush their skull. 

A stalemate was finally reached and Luke and Han stood there, weapons at the ready. None of the other patrons seemed interested in testing their mettle against the two and satisfied that the ignorant savages had been cowed, Luke deactivated his lightsaber. There were whispers from the customers and Luke picked up the word "Jedi" several times. It angered him to be compared to the pacifistic weaklings who once ruled the galaxy through treachery. He was a Sith, someone willing to stand in front of any enemy and demonstrate his ability to lead through martial prowess.

Someone clapped from the corner and Luke looked over. He could sense something coming off of Han through the Force and he realized it was lust. A woman, blonde-haired and long-legged stepped forward. She was dressed skimpily, with high boots and dark gloves that matched the barely-there top and short pants that accentuated her figure. Two blasters hung at her shapely hips in quick draw holsters. "Never seen an actual dark knight in action."

Luke smiled and bowed his head slightly. He almost reached out to take her hand and kiss it, just like he had seen so many times in the Imperial court, but then he remembered his mother's comment about such people. "They kiss your hand when they should be kissing something else!"

She stopped in front of the two, several burly guards behind her. Luke sensed that these were all professional men, probably former stormtroopers by the way they carried themselves. "I'm Commander Silver Frye of the Aquarius Freeholders."

Han explained. "The Freeholders are a mercenary group hired by the Empire to keep an eye on this section of the galaxy. They don't enforce the law per se as much as they stop illegal smuggling."

"We try, but without the vast resources of the Empire, we can only do so much," she said with a smile. Her face brought a charge of electricity to Luke's body. "I'm sure that your service is commendable nevertheless," he replied.

She laughed and Luke found himself transfixed by the sway of her breasts as she did so. This was a woman who reminded him…of his mother! For an instant, he was sickened, but then he gradually came to realize that he was attracted to this woman's free spirit, to her confidence in her place in the scheme of things. Her physical attributes only served to be the "icing on the spice cake" as Han would say. "So, this is the hotshot pilot you were talking about?"

"He's nearly as good as me," Han said, jabbing Luke in the ribs.

"Yes, I'm so lucky to have Han as a mentor," Luke added icily. The groups briefly stepped aside as bar workers began to clean up the bodies. One of the workers was the pretty young waitress he had noticed before. Luke saw the expression of fear on her face when she looked at him, her initial interest replaced by revulsion.

A subtle nudge in the Force repaired that. In an instant, he caused her to fall madly in love with him. She would pursue him with all of her heart and when he finally rejected her, she would kill herself. Without another thought, he turned back to Silver and Han as they conversed.

Silver stopped speaking to Han and looked past Luke. "Can I help you, sweetheart?" she asked.

Luke suppressed a giggle and stepped aside to let the waitress through. "This is my man," she said, pointing to Luke. "You don't even look at him!"

Han was perplexed and opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it. Luke always had some sort of unnatural effect on women and experience told him that no matter what he said, it wouldn't do any good. Taking a cue from his friend, who seemed to know when trouble was about to start, he stepped back as well.

Silver put her hands on her hips and looked at the younger woman. "Dear, if I wanted him, you certainly wouldn't be able to stop me. Why don't you go back to work before I get you fired."

The waitress screamed and launched herself at Silver. Three bright green bolts of energy tore through the young woman before she ever made contact. As he body fell, Silver's bodyguards lowered their smoking blasters.

Luke made a mental note about the results of his mind tampering. He had not expected that and while he was displeased at not being able to enjoy the young waitress's company, he had gained valuable insight into the use of that particular talent. "I don't know what got into her," Luke said sheepishly. "I didn't even know her."

"I'm sure; a Sith wouldn't know anything about mind control," Silver said with a smile.

Han scratched his head. "Never seen anything like that before." He looked over to Luke. "Silver here is a believer in your ancient religion, too."

"Really?" Luke asked in surprise. He had met very few people that would even acknowledge the Force as being anything other than a belief system. "A true believer?"

"My mother's brother was taken by the Jedi when he was only a baby. My mother never saw him again. Let's just say that I believe in what they could do and I'm not sad that they are gone." She waved a hand towards her private table. "I'm the one setting up the race; perhaps you would like to go over the details."

"The race is illegal, isn't it?" Luke asked and Han shook his head.

"Perhaps we should discuss it in private, Flight Officer Skywalker?" Luke felt Han's heart sink and he almost felt sorry for him. However, this was one area that friendship did not come into play. "I would love the opportunity to try and change your mind."

"I'm sure you would, but why? Are you worried I would call in the forces of the Empire and deprive you of your lucrative contract?" Luke asked.

She laughed, almost so hard that she choked. "I'm sure, handsome, you could do that, but to be honest, I think it would be far more interesting to see the best rogue pilots out there go up against the two of you."

"Then, by all means, lead on," Luke said.

She cocked her head to him. "I have a private room nearby…"

Han was already scanning the crowd for something to keep him occupied while Luke "discussed" the situation with Silver. Han was all for the race, obviously, but he would not participate at the expense of his career and/or friendship with Luke. Luke sensed the anxiety in his friend and considered telling him that he had already decided to participate, but decided not to.

He got a read from Silver's mind and sensed that she meant him no harm, but she also did not intend to sleep with him either. She was fascinated by him and somewhat attracted and all of this was a test to see how he would react. Because of their age difference (she was at least a decade older than him), she no doubt figured he would be all over her once they were alone.

Such tests were common, as many Imperial officers had told him during his training. Because of his position within the Imperial court, Luke had always been treated differently even as a cadet. He was always being given advice by the older men assigned to instruct him. His mother would only shake her head and warn him that only someone who could truly appreciate the complexities of the Dark Side would be able to be a worthy mate for him. 

Luke wasn't sure he was looking for a mate, but Silver presented a learning opportunity, a way to fully investigate the workings of the female mind. The rewards for such study far outweighed the risks. He tried to see the future, to know exactly when he would be able to conquer this scoundrel of a woman, but all he saw were dark clouds. 

The future was always difficult to read, but now it was damn near impossible. A chill went up Luke's spine. There was a figure in the clouds, a figure that seemed to represent death. A figure radiating the Force. Was that figure him?

Instantly, the sensation was gone and Luke was surprised to find that he and Silver were walking hand in hand down a back alleyway. Several minutes had passed as Luke had been lost in the dream. 

What that actually meant would be on his mind for a very long time to come. 


	9. Chapter 8

Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior

By Christopher W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2002 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2002 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.

**CHAPTER 8**

"Son of a Sith-spawned gutter whore!" Ferrin Durron exclaimed as the _Millennium Falcon_ came out of hyperspace. Alarms were screaming and lights were flashing, giving the impression of absolute chaos. 

It could not have been a better explanation of the situation they were currently in. 

He looked over to his co-pilot, a boy of fourteen with unkempt black hair. "What the hell happened?"

The boy snapped back. "We hit a large gravity mass!"

Ferrin looked out of the viewport to see what appeared to be a small moon in the middle of nowhere. Several large vessels, wedge-shaped and bristling with turbolasers, surrounded the moon. "It's a fleet of some-type."

"Brilliant, dad; what gave it away?" the boy asked as he pulled the throttle controls back and put the ship in a tight turn. The communications light suddenly came to life, casting the relatively dark cockpit in a red glow. "We're being hailed."

Ferrin nodded but did not move to make a reply. Instead, he was intently looking at the scanning equipment readouts. After several moments, he saw that several small fighters were being launched from the moon. "They're inorganic…mechanicals!"

"And lightning fast!" the boy responded, adding power to the rear deflector shields. He regarded the flashing light. "Are you going to answer that?"

Ferrin gave the lad a stern look and then reached over to open a channel. "Unidentified vessel, you are under orders to power down and await to be boarded," a baritone voice said.

Ferrin closed the channel. "See, they didn't have anything worth saying anyway." He got up and removed his brown robes, revealing tan combat fatigues underneath. "I'm going to man the dorsal gun; can you control the other from here?'

The boy smiled. "I can control both from here and fly the ship of I want, but aren't you being a little rash? You've always told me that rushing into a fight…"

Ferrin held up a hand. "Kyp…son…we're in a different universe now. Stretch out with the Force not to control the inanimate, but to sense the life that is around us. Feel the thoughts of the pilots of those vessels coming at us. I know you've never had to do that, but you will not survive here if you don't."

Kyp closed his eyes and his father felt him send the tendrils out through the Force and latch onto one of their pursuers. Kyp's probe was too evasive however, and suddenly one of the ships's veered off course, spinning into the cold depths of space. The horror of what he had done quickly skewed Kyp's features. "I didn't mean to…"

Ferrin laid a hand on the boy's shoulder. "The time for regrets can come later. I sense something dark about that moon and the pilots coming from it." He could feel an underlying current of the Dark Side permeating this part of space, something he had not felt in nearly two decades.

Many years ago, Ferrin had been an apprentice Jedi under the tutelage of Master Ovos. Headstrong and filled with the desire to be a great warrior, Ferrin had developed a reputation for getting into trouble. Often times, despite the stern warnings from not only his master but also the Jedi Council, he would find himself patrolling the walkways of Coruscant, looking for evildoers to apprehend.

During one such outing, he had ended up facing two bounty hunters, Zam Wessel and Jango Fett. Escaping, he brought information he had learned about then Tatooine representative Lord Vader to the Council. By listening in on a conversation between Fett and some hired guns of Jabba the Hutt, Ferrin had discovered that Lord Vader was really Anakin Skywalker, a former ward of the Jedi who had disappeared a decade before.

Then Chancellor Palpatine, under the guise of senate pressure, was having the Jedi investigated for possible foul play in the case of Skywalker. It was all a hoax, a charade orchestrated by Palpatine himself who was none other than a Dark Lord of the Sith. Ferrin had gotten that bit of information when he had, rather foolishly, attempted to control the mind of Darth Vader.

Vader hadn't killed him, but it had left Ferrin with the taint of the Dark Side about him. That taint had been passed on to his son, Kyp, though the boy had done very well in his lessons when it came to controlling it. He still had a smart attitude that occasionally got him into trouble, but overall, Kyp was a fine Jedi warrior.  

"This is not a safe place for us. It will take two minutes for the navcomputer to get a fix on where we are at, but it looks like our trip to Dagobah has been cancelled." Ferrin turned and headed down to the passageway to the ladder that led down to the lower gun platform. 

"We can't afford not to go to Dagobah!" Kyp called after him, but his father was out of earshot. The ever-famous impulsive Durron nature was showing and Kyp turned to the matter at hand. He put the _Falcon_ into a spin and slipped down his relative Z-axis, pouring as much power as he could to the engines.

All the while, he was considering the power he now possessed, how amplified the Force was here. He normally kept himself shutdown, as the Force was of very little use where he had grown up. It was almost like walking your entire life and then being told you had to run all of a sudden. He was confident that he would not make the same mistake twice.

The fighter he had caused to veer off course was slowly returning to the formation of four and Kyp saw that several of the larger vessels were making their way in his direction. It was odd seeing vessels with such distinct, sharp lines; there was a beauty to it, something clean and sterile. Kyp was tired of always feeling dirty, of always running, and yet, if he didn't, he would die.

Just like his mother.

He could still remember her, Lyndia Jade-Durron, Jedi Knight and loving wife. She had been the inspiration for both Kyp and Ferrin and her recent death still weighed heavily on them. She had gone down fighting, just like the warrior she had proclaimed herself to be.

Now, they were on their way to a swamp planet in the galaxy of his father's birth. Ferrin and Lyndia had escaped the purges led by the anti-Jedi fanatics that had been stirred by Palpatine's campaign of hate. They had gone outside the galaxy to meet up with the Jedi master J'orrus C'Baoth and what Jedi they could muster.

On Dagobah they hoped to find what remained of the Jedi Order, waiting as it had been agreed upon before the dispersal. "We can't outrun the smaller ones, dad! Do you want me to open up…"

"No!" Ferrin yelled back through the intership commlink. "You keep that shut down! It's our sabbac card up the sleeve!"

"What the hell is sabbac?" Kyp asked as he put the ship in a straight line towards what the computer was calling the galactic core. He then flipped on the communications unit. The same warning was being repeated. "Not very original, are they?"

Desperate seconds ticked by, the faithful hum of the hyperdrive the only sound. Kyp eyed the hyperdrive controls; the _Millennium Falcon_ was an obstinate and ornery creation, more alive than most of the creatures Kyp had encountered in his fourteen years of life. He knew that it was only a matter of time before the ship's droid brains (there were three separate ones!) started bickering with each other. They had already shown their discontent for the recent modifications Kyp had made by turning the heat off at random intervals. In the dead of space it took no time for the temperature to drop below freezing.

"Incoming!" Kyp called and two fighters swept by. The targeting computer for the upper quad-cannon could not identify the ships, little more than ball-shaped cockpits with large solar panels for power collection. They were fast, too, and Kyp typed in a note about their speed and named them "fastballs".

The sound of laser fire told him that his father was working the guns and there was a slight rocking sensation as they were hit from behind. The rear shield indicator glowed bright yellow and then went out. "Oh! You piece of garbage!" Kyp screamed as he punched the control board. The shields came back up at ninety-five percent. "Don't do that again!" he warned the vessel.

In response, the navcomputer chirped and Kyp turned to look at it. They were only halfway to Dagobah and the instructions that Ferrin had typed in had them heading towards an entirely different location. "Tatooine?"

A bright light outside the cockpit took his attention away from their course and he watched as one of the fighters was reduced to atoms by his father's firing. Kyp took the controls for the upper gun and closed his eyes. Through the Force, he could "see" the other fighters on approach and even predict their future movements. This was so different from what he was actually used to that he momentarily got lost in the sensation. A whole new world was opening up to him the more he stretched out and he had to question why his parents had ever left this paradise for the hell they had been living in.

This universe was permeated with the Force. It wasn't a light dusting; it was a full shower or glorious, beautiful life energy flowing between the very strings that held the galaxy together. He began to feel his mind open, his soul burned brighter and it was as if the universe was saying, "welcome home". 

But there was something else as well, something in the shadows of his thoughts, something dark and cold. It called to him and told him about power undreamt of, power that could have saved his mother. He saw himself as a conqueror, a dream all little boys have at one time or another, and entire planet on its knees before him. "You need no other, Jedi, boy," it said in soothing tones. "Reach out to your enemies, you know you can! Smite them with a thought!"

And he could if he wanted to. He knew with just the subtlest of suggestions, he could make all of the pilots pursuing them break off and attack each other. He could even make them eject into the cold vacuum of space and some part of him relished in the idea of doing it. His hands started to shake.

"Kyp! By the Force, boy, snap out of it!" Ferrin said, shaking his son.

Kyp blinked his eyes and looked up to see his father standing there, a concerned look on his face. "What? Where are we?"

His father stooped down and looked his son in the face. "We're in hyperspace; we made the jump minutes ago. What happened to you?"

"I was concentrating on firing the guns, reaching out with the Force…"

Ferrin nodded. "I sensed you were deep in the Force…too deep for someone of your experience."

Kyp shook his head and looked his father up and down. "Who are you to say that? That isn't fair!"

"It is quite fair, my son, considering that you've been living in a place almost absent of the Force as we Jedi know it." He pursed his lips as he pondered his words. "We will discuss this in length later, but for now I demand you shut yourself off from the Force. When we get to Dagobah, there will be more experienced Jedi there who can help you ease into it."

Kyp wanted to protest, but he didn't. He loved his father too much not to obey and on some base level, he knew he was correct. He did as he was commanded, cutting off the line he had to the Force and suddenly felt very tired. "I need to go lie down," he said.

Ferrin allowed his son to go back to the lounge and took his place in the pilot's seat. He wiped the sweat from his brow and closed his eyes, using a Jedi calming technique to slow his heartbeat. He wondered if bringing Kyp here had been a mistake.

The boy's training had been anything but orthodox; lessons on the run, emphasis on fighting skills and almost nothing on passive tactics. He was turning out to be the type of Jedi that you only saw in holodramas, brash and arrogant, but was it his fault? Though Lyndia and he had shown the boy love, they had also shown him death and misery in their adventures. 

He should have brought Kyp here as soon as he was born, but Lyndia, still hurt over having to give up her first child, Mara, would not hear of it. Ferrin should have been more forceful with his wife, but he realized that it would never have happened. Lyndia was the strength of the family and slowly, he and Kyp were becoming distant. His boy was becoming a man.

He had felt Kyp stretch out in the Force during their flight and had been pleased that he was adapting so quickly. Then he had felt the tug of the Dark Side calling to Kyp and he wanted to jump from the gun deck and run to his son, but he couldn't. The _Millennium Falcon_ then began a series of maneuvers that Ferrin knew Kyp could not have performed unaided by the Force, but they were no subtle, they were forced and aggressive. Then he had felt Kyp's mind reach out to the pursuing pilots and one by one, he had forced them to eject from their ships.

Their dying thoughts echoed through the Force.

Only when the ship had gone into hyperspace was Ferrin able to shake the boy from his trance and Ferrin knew why. The Dark Side wasn't just calling out, it was directed. It was a message to all Force-talented beings, broadcast on a level only the most powerful could hear. To Ferrin it was whisper in the ear, to Kyp it must have been blasting out like a thunderous god from above. 

He knew that feeling all too well. He could feel it whenever he accessed the memories of Anakin Skywalker he had absorbed that fateful day on Coruscant. It was the mind of the master, the Dark Side king, the Dark Lord.

Palpatine.

Ferrin only hoped that there would be enough Jedi on Dagobah to help him steer his son away from the dangerous course he had started out on.


	10. Chapter 9

Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior

By Christopher W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2002 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2002 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.

**CHAPTER 9**

"Captain Fel, please have a seat," Thrawn said as the pilot entered his ready room. "Welcome to the Death Star."

Fel accepted the offered hand and gave it a firm grip. Unlike many of his fellow officers, Fel had no non-human biases. He saw all beings as being able to contribute something to the Empire and he abhorred wasteful attitudes that were characterized by xenophobia. "I have to say it was quite a surprise to receive my orders. The Knights weren't due to rotate off of Imperial Center for another two years."

The two men sat down and Thrawn waited until the serving droid had given them both drinks before continuing. "Some very unusual events have occurred in the last week and I suggested to Moff Tarkin," he smiled as Fel indicated he noted the his superior had left off the _Grand_, "that it would be prudent to station an elite squadron on board."

"I was under the impression that the Death Star is fully functional," Fel remarked as he studied the various pieces of artwork in the room. He recognized some as being from the Core Worlds, but there were also several pieces that he could not imagine were painted or sculpted by human hands.

Thrawn shrugged. "It is, but not fully manned. A planet-destroying laser isn't quite the weapon I would use against starfighters. The truth is that we are only at 30% personnel capacity. We have the technical personnel but not the warrior-types. Not people like you, Captain."

"Thank you, Admiral, sir," Fel said slightly embarrassed. He was actually a great admirer of Thrawn's work on tactics. "I take it then that you still plan to leave?"

The blue-skinned man nodded and his red eyes got a faraway look as if he were trying to peer into the future. "I was supposed to take command of the Unknown Regions Task Force, but a situation has developed at the Dathomir Penal Colony."

"A situation?" Fel asked. He knew that Admiral Zsinj basically ruled that sector of space in the Emperor's name. Zsinj was an old ally of Palpatine and was granted, it seemed at times, the same powers as Tarkin when it came to making decisions. 

"Yes, it appears that Admiral Zsinj went insane, killed one of his crewmembers and then fell over dead himself." Thrawn shook his head. "His fleet is currently under the command of a man named Palleon."

Fel hadn't heard of the officer and offered no comment. Thrawn continued. "Tarkin is happy to see me go and I have to confess that the prospect of being a planetary warden holds more enjoyment for me than being his attaché."

"It is a waste of your abilities, sir," Fel stated. "You would be better suited hunting down Garm Bel Iblis and his renegade fleet!" The sting of having such a well-known personality from his home world leading the rebellion still hurt. Though he had not entirely agreed with Bel Iblis's politics, he still understood that he was powerful man and worthy of some respect. That was, at least, until he decided to betray the Emperor.

"Ah, but not a waste of your talents, Captain Fel. The Emperor has directed Tarkin to use this battle station to hunt down and destroy the Rebel Alliance, as it refers to itself now." He steeped his fingers under his chin. "Darth Deceptra was going to be arriving here at the dedication ceremonies, but she has been sent away on a mission."

"Oh?" Fel asked, somewhat surprised. Ever since his confrontation with Luke Skywalker, he found that he could not get the mother of the Emperor's Fist out of his mind. Yes, he was attracted to her, physically, despite the mechanical components of her body. He didn't understand the attraction completely, but found that it was not entirely unpleasant.

In fact, when he had learned that he was to be posted to the Death Star, he had secretly hoped to meet with her again on a more personal level. "Do not play coy with me, Captain," Thrawn said with a smile. "There is something…alluring about her." It was quite a confession because Fel had no idea that Thrawn was even interested in human women. "She asked me to send you her regards."

"I did not know you two were so close," Fel said, suddenly slightly jealous. Why hadn't she sent her regards in person?

As if he had read his mind, Thrawn responded in a voice that carried a bit of mirth in it. "I have known her since she was a young senator from Naboo; I was there when her husband, Lord Vader, died and her son was born.  

"She is not much older than you, Baron; she was still nothing more than a child when Darth Vader was murdered. Behind her Force, and I assure you such a thing does exist, there beats the heart of a very passionate woman. A woman who will not be denied. A woman who knows when she is being lied to."

Fel got the distinct impression he was being threatened, perhaps warned, but did not let on with his feelings. "I appreciate the attention the Dark Lady pays to me and I assure you admiral that my intentions, if I have any, are true…not politically motivated."

Thrawn's features softened somewhat. "Excellent, Captain. I have more than a healthy respect for Lady Deceptra's abilities; she is our best defense against the Jedi."

Fel suppressed a laugh. "The Jedi are extinct, sir; their flame burned out long ago in the galaxy." At least that was what he had always been led to believe. Very shortly after taking the throne as Emperor, Palpatine had initiated several programs meant to purge the galaxy of the Jedi and their supporters. The Jedi had been corrupt, evil creatures that lived through chaos and disorder. They had tried to raise an army to subjugate the Old Republic. They had kidnapped children in the night and who knew what horrors awaited those innocents inside their temples?

Fel had been nothing more than a child at the time and he had no memories of the Jedi himself. In fact, Correllian Jedi were extremely rare to begin with, so many of the purges bypassed his planet during his youth. Thrawn, on the other hand, in his climb up the military ladder to Grand Admiral, had participated in many routings of the hated Jedi. Personally, he had killed two Jedi in combat, two wounded and very tired Jedi. Those personal battles had each nearly cost him his life and when he saw how easily Deceptra dispatched the Force-wielders, he knew that she was an asset that the New order could ill afford to lose.

Thrawn had no illusions of grandeur, of one-day becoming master of the Empire; he instead enjoyed his role as a follower, as a tool being wielded against the forces of chaos and corruption. It allowed him a certain amount of freedom that he was sure that the Emperor could ill afford.

"Do not believe what the propaganda machines have been putting out, Captain; you know as well as I do how certain truths can become distorted when needed. If the public were to know that there were possibly other Jedi out there, it could cause a panic." Thrawn stood up. "Not that I know of any specifically, but I would not be surprised to find at least one or two that have managed to elude us."

Fel stood up and Thrawn again extended his hand. "I digress, though, Captain. I merely wanted to test for myself your loyalties. There may be some changes occurring in the structure of the Empire with Zsinj's death and I wanted to ensure my trust in you was warranted."

"I hope I have not disappointed you," Fel responded with honesty.

"Indeed you have. Rest assured I will send a most favorable report to the Emperor and to Darth Deceptra concerning this meeting." Thrawn then saw Fel out the door and when the pilot was in the hallway, he started to try and dissect the meeting.

After a few moments of contemplation he realized that he had been tested to see if he had any rebel sympathies. No direct questions, just a friendly discussion where Thrawn, the master of reading body language, watched him intently under the microscopic vision of those blood-red eyes. Thrawn knew of the friendliness between Fel and Deceptra and that most likely meant the Emperor knew. 

Thrawn was merely making sure that Fel was not an assassin trying to get to the Emperor through the Dark Apprentice. Since he was still alive, Fel figured that he also had the de facto blessing of Palpatine to pursue Deceptra.

The thought made Fel smile as he had been a lonely man since his wife had died. She had been pregnant with their first child when it happened and Imperial science, luckily, had saved the boy. His son was now in the care of nannies specially picked by Emperor Palpatine himself. It was obvious that the Emperor was placing a lot of faith on Fel and that made his heart swell with pride.

He hadn't really wanted to join the Imperial navy, but circumstances at home put him in a situation where he had to leave quickly. The fastest and safest way was the Academy. There he had excelled in piloting and leadership and came under the watchful eye of several important Imperial officers, most notable a certain alien admiral named Thrawn. Thrawn had seen unlimited potential in Fel and had convinced the Emperor to take a special interest in him.

The Empire needed heroes. In a government run by a single individual, it was sometimes hard to forget that everyone's obedience was needed to ensure that order was maintained. By promoting heroes, the Empire gave examples for the everyday citizen to emulate. It was an honor that Fel took seriously. Maybe he hadn't wanted to be an officer at first, but now he was and by the Force he was going to be the best damn officer the Empire had!

It was a lonely existence, though; dedication to duty was not a romantic quality, despite what the holodramas said and Soontir Fel had assumed that he would never marry. His wife had been an actress, someone used to being on the go and being away from loved ones. They were a perfect match, complementing each other. Her death had been more than devastating, it had been galaxy crushing.

She had been murdered and the killer had gotten away. The Emperor had even gone so far as to order Darth Deceptra to look into the matter and it was there that the two of them began to speak to each other on a different level. Having lost her husband to the Jedi, Deceptra had been somewhat sympathetic. He began to see another side to her, a side she kept locked away from the public. The Empire needed Darth Deceptra, but Fel soon discovered that he needed Padme Amidala.

It wasn't hard to find out her true history; as a Hero of the Empire, Fel had access to libraries and records many scholars thought lost during the Jedi purges. He knew about her struggle against the corruption of the Old Republic senate and how she eventually turned to Palpatine's camp to bring about the New Order. 

They were kindred spirits and while there was the need to maintain military decorum and discipline, he could not deny that his attraction to her was becoming overwhelming. It wasn't one-sided either because many times he had looked at her without permission or received no reprimand. Even with the coldness of her mechanical eye, he could see there was some small spark of warmth deep in her soul. 

The Rebel Alliance called her evil, but to Fel she was misunderstood. No doubt, he thought, that with the exception of Garm Bel Iblis (his blood boiled at the thought), the rebellion was made up of young people too young to know what life was like under the Old Republic. They could not know how easily the Jedi dominated the senators. They could not see that extreme measures had to be taken to ensure peace in the galaxy.

Padme Amidala had been like them, a pacifist who had to stand by and watch as her home planet was invaded. Then she witnessed the greatest treachery when the Jedi agreed to train Anakin Skywalker and then backed out of their promise, leaving the boy to fend for himself. 

She now understood the sacrifices that had to be made and Fel admired that. He had wanted to leave the Imperial military after his wife's death, wanted to hunt down the murderer or murderers himself, but he was compelled to remain true to his oath to the Emperor. Now, perhaps in some strange twist of fate, his decision to stay was bearing fruit.

That Darth Deceptra had asked Thrawn to give him the message only made the intrigue greater. In fact, despite Luke Skywalker's attitude, he was enjoying this little game. It made him feel young…or at least younger.

"You may remain at attention, Captain Fel," Tarkin said without bothering to look up from his desk. He was busy going through several datapads of information. For several minutes there was no sound except the tapping of Tarkin's finger on the pads. Finally, he looked up and regarded the TIE Fighter pilot.

Never had two individuals contrasted so sharply. Tarkin was perhaps one of the most powerful people in the universe, yet Fel was adored by the masses. Tarkin was thin, gaunt, pale whereas Fel was youthful and muscular, his face full of life and color. From the moment Tarkin had learned of the transfer he had decided he hated Fel.

"So, the Emperor has decided that we need a Hero among us," Tarkin said in a bored tone.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?" Fel requested.

"Denied, Captain," was the reply. Tarkin stood up and pulled his olive-drab tunic down. "On this battle station, I am the Emperor's chosen. Unlike many others in the Empire, I will not tolerate things such as going over my head. Is that clear, Captain?"

Fel remained silent. Tarkin smiled grimly. "Your duties and mine will hopefully keep us from ever coming into contact, Captain, but rest assured you will be watched. I have full military authority on the Death Star and even your status as a Hero of the Empire cannot help you, nor can the fact that the Emperor's Fist is part of your squadron. The only thing that impresses me, Captain, is myself."

Fel did not find that hard to believe and now his little talk with Thrawn made all the more sense. There were political factions being created in the New Order. On one side were those loyal to the Emperor beyond a fault; on the other were powerful, resourceful individuals that were needed to keep the government working. With Thrawn gone, the Emperor wanted someone here to keep an eye on Tarkin.

"You are dismissed, Captain," Tarkin said as he turned back to his desk.

Fel snapped a salute, did an about-face and exited the office, moving past two stormtroopers.

Once in the passageway, an aide came up and directed him to the personnel section for his squadron and he was happy to see that the support personnel had everything up and running. He ran a tight ship, but Tarkin's way of management was borderline psychotic. He wondered if he ever had served in any real military capacity.

"This sucks," one crewman said and Fel turned to regard him. When he asked what the problem was, the crewman shook his head. "I don't mean to complain, sir, but you would not believe everything we have to do just to get a message out to Imperial Center. Tarkin has his own censors looking over even the most highly sensitive stuff. It will take weeks to get all of our spare parts orders out."

"I thought the Death Star had a fully functional supply system," Fel said. 

"Not for the TIE Interceptors we're being assigned," the crewman responded. Fel nodded; the Interceptor was a new design, barely out of the prototype stage. The Knights were the only squadron to be equipped with them right now. The fighter was based upon Luke Skywalker's personal fighter. "It's like Tarkin has created his own little Empire here."

Fel looked down at the crewman and reminded him the punishment for treasonous words. The crewman gulped, nodded and went back to work. Fel, though, could not have agreed more with the enlisted man's observations.


	11. Chapter 10

Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior

By Christopher W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2002 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2002 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.

**CHAPTER 10**

Malakie sat back and observed with great interest as the stars came back into view, the streaking lines of hyperspace now behind them. His first trip beyond lightspeed had been an eye-opening experience. In hyperspace, his Force senses were distorted and he had to meditate for hours to keep from going insane. He was so used to the thought patterns of the Dathomir system, of the guards and prisoners, and even of the soldiers in orbit above the planet. Hyperspace, however, allowed him to access a myriad of thoughts and feelings as they tore through the dimensional barriers between star systems.

The pilot of the _Lambda_-Class shuttle easily handled the controls and Malakie noted that his mother still snoozed quietly in the co-pilot's chair. The real co-pilot had been of particularly strong will and it wasn't until after Malakie had killed him that his enthralled pilot explained that they were TIE pilots on temporary duty. It seemed that Zsinj's fleet was about to rotate several ships out for some other command in exchange for something called a _Super_-Class star destroyer. None of it meant anything to Malakie, as Dathomir was nothing more than a memory now.

His mother had guided him in the selection of ship and crew; the four stormtroopers in the cargo area were of low willpower and Gethzerion had whispered something about imperfect clones. Malakie knew what clones were and knew that the Empire used them from time to time to fill their ever-increasing security needs. That Zsinj had some and that he was losing ships to another command spoke volumes about what the Empire was up to.

Zsinj's mind had details about the Death Star but the scope and complexity of it made it beyond Malakie's education. He simply could not appreciate what the battle station represented to the galaxy. Even if he did, though, he would not pay it a second thought. His mother had informed him of the spirit of a long dead Sith that had contacted her through the Force. Exar Kunn, once a great Dark Lord, was trapped in spirit on the fourth moon of Yavin. He wanted to train Malakie in exchange for the youth's aid in getting him a new body. Only after Gethzerion had extracted a dark promise not to turn on them had she agreed.

Malakie still did not trust the shade, but there was no place else for him to go. Exar Kunn was a true Sith, having spent thousands of years perfecting the dark arts. Only he could possibly instruct Malakie in the ways of the Force.

Dathomir had ended up becoming somewhat of an embarrassment for Emperor Palpatine Malakie was learning. Several secret files had been made available to him through the hypernet as he applied his knowledge of Zsinj's command codes. Originally, the plan had been to have the Witches of the planet, dark side sorceresses, produce an army of Force-talented warriors. Unfortunately, between Malakie killing off potential male rivals and the seemingly unnatural high birthrate of females, the project was deemed a failure. Palpatine, it appeared, found it difficult to deal with Force-adept women, which made Malakie wonder exactly what his relationship and control over Darth Deceptra was.

There were secret orders dated a year before basically giving Zsinj free reign over the world. He could do with it and its inhabitants whatever he wanted. It seemed that Zsinj had been perfectly happy allowing things to go as normal, but as time went on, Malakie was sure that would change.

Eventually, the Witches would become a thorn in his side and he would have them destroyed. Perhaps with his death that was no longer a likely scenario. Malakie doubted that Palpatine was ready to entrust such power in the hands of Palleon.

Malakie did not care about the welfare of the Witches so much as he knew that eventually they would be a pool for him to pull operatives from. He had ambitious plans, plans as grand as Exar Kunn's he was sure. Unlike Palpatine, though, Malakie did not so much want to rule the entire galaxy, just a small piece of it. He wanted the freedom that power offered and he was willing to swallow a little pride and submit to the spirit of Exar Kunn in order to get it.

Unlike Palpatine, Malakie realized his limitations. "Tycho," Malakie said in slow deliberate words. Controlling a mind got easier as time went on, as the consciousness accepted domination. At the very first, though, Malakie had to be very careful and treat his thrall with a velvet touch. With proper training, he would not have to do such things he was sure. 

The pilot turned his head. "Yes, sir."

"How does this ship scan for life signs? Human life signs?" Malakie had stretched out with the Force towards the jungle moon, but the alien wildlife was simply too alien for him to screen out. He did not understand the techniques required to pinpoint a target he knew nothing about. He sensed the Dark Side on the planet, beckoning him, but it seemed to come from everywhere, not one single location. "I want to ensure that we are alone."

The pilot flipped some switches and a small screen on the console flared to life. It's blue-white screen cast an odd shadow across Malakie's face. "Unfortunately, there appears to be some in-system jamming. That could mean many things, however."

"What is the worst case scenario?"

The pilot thought about it and Malakie felt the mind resist him. He added some slight pressure through the Force. Finally, Tycho answered. "For us, the worst case is a secret Imperial research station or a Rebel outpost of some sort." Malakie noted the true concern in the pilot's response.

The rebellion against the Empire was growing in power and size. Malakie had read from a press release that immediately after the dissolution of the Imperial senate, Garm Bel Iblis, a political powerhouse, had declared himself and agent of the newly formed Rebel Alliance and had commandeered several Imperial vessels for his own fleet. That was interesting but Malakie saw no way, given the number of ships and troops the Empire had, that the Alliance could ever hope to topple the government. 

Though he hated Palpatine with all of his black heart, Malakie held no illusion that some rebel hero was going to defeat him. Palpatine was a Sith and the Sith were all-powerful. There were no more Jedi, so the only way for a Sith to be removed from power was for a more powerful Dark Lord to take his place.

"Bah! Rebellions! Malcontents with dreams of power is all they are," Gethzerion said as she woke up. Malakie waited for his mother to sit up straight before answering her.

"Even so, mother, if they were to discover us, no doubt they would kill us," Malakie said. It was what he would have done.

"You don't understand what an idealist is my son," she cackled. "These rebels dream of sharing power with the masses. We have had many of their ilk deposited in the prison over the years."

"If you desire to share power, then you do not deserve it," Malakie said. "To be forced to share is one thing, but to actually want to? It leaves a bad taste in my mouth."

"Sir," Tycho said, pointing to another screen. "We have two ships coming in on an intercept course. The targeting computer identifies them as Z-95 Headhunters."

Malakie liked the name. "Potential allies?"

Tycho shook his head. "The Empire no longer uses those vessels, sir, not even on the most outlying planet. You can find them in planetary defense forces, pirate groups and the…"

"Rebel Alliance," he finished. Malakie nodded, understanding that a problem had just arisen that he wasn't sure how to deal with. He turned to his mother. "I could try to penetrate their minds, let them think that they have destroyed us or simply kill them."

Gethzerion shook her head, her eyes in a wild stare. "You might fool the pilots, but not the ground control." She flipped on the weapons controls to start charging the laser cannon capacitors. "Better to fight."

"We can't outmaneuver those fighters," Tycho confessed. "They are too nimble and scans show they're armed with concussion missiles."

A true Sith would have been able to send the missiles back to their owners, but Malakie didn't have such ability and he doubted his mother did either. Gethzerion, despite her awkward appearance and mannerisms, was actually quite strong in the Force, but her potential was unrealized. Life on a savage world had trained her to be savage in her ability. She was the club used to swat a gnat; Malakie wanted to become the smallest instrument necessary to do the same thing. He wanted to be like his father. "Can we make them think they have damaged us and them have a controlled landing?"

Tycho thought about it. "That will be very hard to do in this flying box, sir. In a TIE Fighter, yes, I could do it; this crate is another story. The _Lambda_-class was not meant to be a combat vessel. We can take a lot of damage, too. Those pilots probably realize that and I wouldn't be surprised to see a Y-Wing come up real soon…there!" he suddenly exclaimed, pointing at the threat screen. "The idea is to have the headhunters bring down our shields. The Y-Wing has an ion cannon and will disable us."

"Then the rebels or pirates can take the shuttle as their prize," Gethzerion finished, nodding. "An excellent way to build up a star fleet."

"Yavin is far from the normal trade lanes so just about any vessel that ends up here is running from something," Tycho added. He cast a glance at Gethzerion. "Those weapons are likely to irritate them."

"Do you have any better options?" Malakie asked. He found this Tycho Celchu to be a most interesting individual, strong of will, but not too. "Is there another way to get us on the moon safely?"

Malakie sensed the answer before it was spoken, but allowed Tycho to say it aloud for the benefit of Gethzerion. "I propose we act as if we are wanting to join up. If its pirates, they won't suspect treachery with an old woman on board." Gethzerion hissed at the description. The truth was she was barely into middle age, but the Dark Side was aging her rapidly. "If it's the rebels, as I strongly suspect, then we should have even less problems."

Malakie considered it for a moment and decided they had no other choice. Regardless of how, he needed to get down on the surface and any time wasted in space fighting a worthless battle was time he could ill afford. "You will need to communicate with them?"

Gethzerion smiled. "I will plant a suggestion in the flight leader's mind. Watch my son and learn."

She hummed to herself and stared out the viewport as two tiny specks of light drew ever closer. Suddenly the one on the right veered away and started heading back to moon. "_Lambda_-class shuttle, this is Gray Seven, you are cleared to land at the coordinates I'm tight-beaming to you."

Tycho answered back. "Thanks," he replied and then looked over at Gethzerion who flashed a green-toothed smile. "Glad we were able to find you."

There was a pause then a new voice came over the loudspeaker. It was a female one and the instant Malakie heard it, he felt strange. Even as the woman continued on, Gethzerion leaned over and whispered into his ear. "The Force is strong in this one!"

"…has relayed that you wish to defect and turn over your vessel to our cause. Is that correct, pilot?"

"Yes," Tycho answered as a single Z-95 streaked past. The Y-Wing was still slowly approaching and Tycho noted that they were now being scanned. He arched an eyebrow and muted his transmitter. "They've got some heavy-duty scanners onboard that Y-Wing. That's custom-grade stuff, better than what is on here."

"Obviously these rebels are better supplied than the Empire realized," Malakie said.

Gethzerion made a rude noise. "They are children! Be mindful of both the Force and your thrall, my son. If there is someone strong in the Force on this world besides your master…"

Malakie understood and used the Force to probe a little further into Tycho's brain. Deep within it he found that small piece of resistance that every sentient possessed. Instead of beating it down, as he had with Zsinj, he tried Palpatine's method of soothing suggestion. The effect was better than with Zsinj and Tycho soon fell into silently piloting the shuttle. Embedded in his brain were the specific instructions Malakie had placed there.

After a few minutes, he had done the same thing to the stormtroopers onboard, ensuring that should he need aid, it would only be a thought away. As he had concentrated, his mother had gotten behind him and was braiding his hair into a long ponytail as she often did. He allowed her to do it only because the ponytail was practical. "Mother, you say these rebels are children, yet I am to be wary of them."

"You have hunted before, yes my son? You have hunted both man and beast, tracking them through the Force, smelling their fear. These rebels, despite all of their bravado, are fearful." She sighed. "Fear has many uses, but it can also be a powerful weapon. A cornered animal fights stronger than one that can flee. The Empire is hunting these rebels down and soon they will be cornered. It is then they will do their most damage."

He accepted her explanation without any comment. Instead, he tried to reach out to the spirit of Exar Kunn, to inform him that he was ready. No answer came in reply, but Malakie had expected that. He would have to prove himself worthy of being a disciple of Kunn and a test, no doubt, was being set up now. Perhaps it was Kunn's spirit that had alerted the rebels to their entrance to this system. 

Carefully the son of Darth Maul would have to tread in the coming days. Their escape from Dathomir had not gone off without a hitch and it was only a matter of time before the truth was revealed. The only Nightsister's name that was known to Palpatine was Gethzerion and if she were not attending her duties on the prison world, then all hell would break loose.

Eventually, he supposed, the Empire might track them, but he doubted it. He was an unknown quantity, right now, and he guessed that it was Kunn's dark magic that was keeping Palpatine from feeling Malakie's pull on the Dark Side. From the corner of his eye he regarded his mother, humming to herself and braiding his hair. She was his largest liability and yet he felt somehow obligated to keep watch over her.

He had no love for his mother as they both fed off of each other. She provided him with the path to knowledge, he gave her strength. Still, in all of his years, his mother had been his counsel and his only link to his father. In that respect, she had real worth to him and that was why he tolerated her. He hoped that she could pull off the helpless old woman act for the rebels and not launch into one of her frenzies. Malakie was strong in the Force, but not invincible. The presence he felt on the planet had weakened his stomach and he knew it to be of the Light Side, the weak side.

He was not ready. He was not yet the warrior he could be. But that would soon change under the tutelage of the ancient Sith master. His improvement would be measured in days, not years, he silently swore; he would be his father's son. He would be the one to sever the head of the adulteress bitch Darth Deceptra and feed it to her bastard son! Then, he and Exar Kunn, in a body Malakie would secure for him, would tear the flesh from Palpatine's hide for his sins against the Sith and then…

And then the true New Order would begin.

"I can't believe we're being shut down," the technician said, kicking at his toolbox. His companion, a burly man who had once been an Imperial commando before losing the left side of his face, nodded. The metallic prosthetic devices flashed with the overhead lights as he did so. "A shame…a real shame…"

The younger man said a few curse words and pulled some more wires out of the console they were working on. "I mean the Empire still needs cryogenic prisons, right? Am I right?"

The big man shrugged. "Not if they kill all of the prisoners."

From under the console came a sarcastic reply. "Stupid jarhead! You can't kill everyone. I mean…damn it I don't want to go to the Death Star! I want to stay here."

"Imperial Center is nice this time of year," the larger one said with a chuckle. He wasn't being shipped off and would instead retire here, working dismantling the entire building, stripping it of parts. "We'll miss ya!" 

A sudden curse and then the tech slipped out from under the console. "Tell me what junction XT-345-Y was connected to! I just cut the damn wire and it was live!"

"The pad says it was prisoner refrigeration unit J, Alpha level. That puts it under what the old Naboo senator quarters were. Probably some plants or a frozen Gungun."

"What's a Gungun?"

The man with the metal grin shook his head. "Nerf! They was a species that lived on Naboo, too. They is all dead now I guess."

"Yeah, like the Naboo," was the reply. The younger man scratched his head. "You think we should go down there or maybe tell someone?"

"We ain't cleared to go down there and I ain't telling. Cutting the wrong wire is a demotion in grade."

The younger technician shook his head. Even if the loss of power turned on the thawing system, it would be pointless. Alpha level was sealed off to everyone without clearance from the Emperor himself. Why there was such a fuss over what had been the Naboo Museum and Counselor Station he didn't know or care. Chances were that all he did was kill the prisoner. 

Stormtroopers were moving about, watching the workers and standing next to cryogenic chambers. As they opened, the stormtroopers open fire, killing the prisoners. It was all part of some urban renewal project headed by Darth Deceptra and her attaché Commander Isaard. Hundreds of kilometers of Imperial Center were being demolished to be replaced by who knew what.

The two techs decided to leave well enough alone and went back to their duties. 


	12. Chapter 11

Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior

By Christopher W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2002 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2002 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.

**CHAPTER 11**

"Have you ever been to Alderaan, kid?" Dash asked as the _Outrider_ moved into line behind an ore hauler. Strictly controlled for traffic, Alderaanian space no place to come flying in blind. Though they had no offensive weapons, the peace-loving members of the world did have a number of non-lethal ion cannons placed on the tops of the mountains scattered around the planet. A couple of well-placed shots and the _Outrider_ would be nothing more than floating space junk, waiting to be impounded by the local security forces.

"I'm about your age, Dash," Corran said, giving him an evil eye. It was a true statement, but if one were to look at the two of them, it would not be so readily apparent. Dash was rugged, with a day's worth of beard that hid a strong chin. His biceps flexed whenever he made a slight adjustment to their trajectory and his long blond hair always seemed somehow unkempt, yet stylish.

On the opposite end of the spectrum was Corran, who still had to grow his first full face of hair. Clean-shaven with a short, CorSec regulation haircut, he was smaller than Dash, but his frame hid raw muscle. Dash was starting to develop what would one day be a proud ale-gut, while Corran refrained from anything other than natural juices and water. "You look like my son," Dash said in jest. "You need to get yourself drunk and find a good woman…"

Corran shook his head. "I told you before that I don't go for that kind of thing."

"You're a real straight arrow, you know that, kid?" Dash replied. The cockpit remained silent as they descended and Dash took the time to review what he had learned so far about his new partner. 

Hal Horn was probably the best cop that CorSec ever produced, a man dedicated to protecting the citizens of Corellia from all enemies, be they pirate or Imperial. Corellia had not gone into Palpatine's New Order quietly and the protests lodged by politicians such as Garm Bel Iblis had made the Emperor come to loathe the planet. Always filled with rebels and grandstanders, the Emperor had hoped to choke the Corellian economy, forcing the people to rally against Bel Iblis and force him from office. It was not enough to kill him, the Emperor wanted to see the man shamed.

But the stubborn Corellians stuck together even as more and more shipyards were closed, vital and lucrative contracts sent off to worlds like Kuat. The Emperor would not negotiate, nor would Darth Deceptra, not that it would have done any good. A warrior, a pilot even, such as Darth Vader, had he lived, most likely would have been able to win over the Corellian people initially, but the current government simply repulsed the independent-minded peoples.

Hal Horn began to secretly work for the Corellian rebel cells after the closing of Corellia Fighter Works, a small company that he had invested most of his retirement savings into. Because of the Empire's policies, Hal Horn would have to work until the day he died in order to eat. That wasn't right and the cop finally saw that treason was the only way to save his world. 

Luckily, Garm Bel Iblis had been watching Horn for some time and was quick to snatch the man up at the first sign of discontent. After that, Hal began to make sure his son was prepared for the coming war. Hal had no doubt that the Empire would starve the people of Corellia until they bowed and begged for mercy. That, of course would never happen. 

Soldiers were needed and Corran Horn, newly graduated from the CorSec academy began years of study in everything from advanced small arms tactics to jungle survival. Unfortunately, this made Corran something of an embarrassment to CorSec because he did not become a very good law enforcement officer. Word was passed down that Corran had either shape up or ship out. The Imperials, who were slowly taking control of CorSec away from the local government, could not abide waste. They felt Corran's talents would be better served in the Imperial military.

Dash's sudden defection and mission to Alderaan was a blessing for Hal Horn who had been worried about what would happen to his son. "You ever seen combat, kid?"

Corran gave up trying to correct his new partner. "A little. Nothing major like what you've probably seen," he said and Dash was surprised by how humble the guy had become since their fight. Hal had mentioned that Corran was a top-notch hand-to-hand combatant and Dash had earned his respect by keeping up with him. "I have been in some space combat, flying X-Wings."

"The T-65 from Incom? Wasn't that design stolen by the rebellion?"

Corran nodded. "Yeah, but it wasn't like the Imps were going to buy it anyway. Too expensive for the Emperor's tastes. Local security forces liked them, though."

The continued the small talk while the cut through the stratosphere and within fifteen minutes they had been given clearance to land at the royal palace. Stepping out of the ship and onto the landing pad, Dash noted with some ire the way some of the workers kept pointing at the _Outrider_ and laughing. He considered going over and smacking some manners into them when Corran put a firm grip on his shoulder. Even through the shoulder pads of his body armor Dash could feel the strength of the other man's fingers. 

Coming out of what appeared to be flight control was an entourage of several armed security men and many white-robed minister. Bail Organna, taller than all of the others, his once dark, swarthy features paled by time and worry, walked in the middle. Dash began to briefly come up with what would be the proper greeting for a Viceroy when Corran stepped out in front. It had been agreed to let Corran do most of the talking since he had a more pleasant demeanor.

The guards surrounded the ship even as techs moved in to refuel it. Bail stepped up and Corran bowed slightly from the waist. "Greetings Viceroy Bail Organna," he began.

Bail dipped his head. "You must be Corran Horn," he said extending his hand. "I met your father several years ago when you were a small boy. He spoke very highly of you."

"You honor both me and my family with your kind words," Corran said. He then turned to Dash. "Allow me to present the captain of the _Outrider_, Dash Rendar."

Bail smiled. "Your reputation proceeds you, Captain; Garm Bel Iblis made you appear to be the hero of Corellia."

"Do all heroes smell so bad?" a female voice asked from behind Bail. "You would think one would have the manners to wash before meeting the leadership of one of the Core Worlds!"

Leia stepped out from behind her father, clad in the same white robes that the ministers wore. Her hair was done up in typical Alderaanian fashion, a bun on either side of her head. There was a fiery spirit in her tone and she eyed Dash with contempt. Corran seemed to feel something else in the air as well once she made her presence known.

Dash bowed. "Pardon me, your worshipfulness, but some of us work for a living."

Several attendants gasped at such rude language. They were used to Leia's tirades, especially of late, but to have a commoner speak so was simply too much for many of them. Some started to protest but Bail raised a hand to quiet them. Leia was too used to getting her way; she was prideful and Bail supposed that was his fault. She had a big heart and he had lavished her with attention, but there was something of a snob in her. Her education in royal etiquette had perhaps been too extensive. 

How he wished she would use that training more often with the Emperor. "I do work, Mr. Rendar, I work to ensure that all peoples are treated fairly and decently. How many people could be fed if you filled your cargo holds with food instead of spice?"

"How many people would be fed if you sold some of the royal jewelry, my lady?" he asked, grinning. 

Corran said nothing as he was having a hard time understanding the tongue-lashing Dash was receiving. He moved to step in to his friend's defense when Leia turned to him.

It was said in many cultures that there is a moment in time that occurs when your past, present and future all collide. A single second where you realize that your destiny is standing before you. Corran felt that way the moment the young princess looked at him and he "felt" something else as well. It was a light, buzzing sensation, a general feeling of emotional wellness. Leia's features softened. "Mr. Horn…I…I…"

Bail looked to his daughter and all of the worries of any loving parent came over him in a wash. Leia was trembling slightly and not from rage. Her shoulders slumped and she fought to find her tongue. He saw the expression on Corran's face and Bail was reminded of how he once looked when he gazed upon Leia's mother.

Her true mother. Darth Deceptra.

Dash snickered, breaking the moment. "Tell you what, Princess, how about we let the kid here handle all of the negotiations between you and me?"

"There are no negotiations!" she said, her color reddening again. It did not quite reach the crimson it had before, Corran's presence seeming to keep her in check. "I am not some piece of cargo to be hauled around the universe!"

"Leia, you must go," Bail pleaded. "It is not safe for you here anymore. You have heard the rumors. Deceptra herself is coming here to investigate possible rebel sympathies among the royal family. This trip was planned long ago…you have put this off for far…"

"I do not wish to be trained as a…" she looked at the ministers and swallowed. "I do not wish to become a pilot," she lied. There was no way she could reveal that only six months before, her father had revealed to her the awful truth.

In a brief conversation in which Bail had shaken as he held his brandy, he told her that she was adopted, that her mother had been a Jedi Knight killed by Darth Deceptra, and that she possessed Force-ability. It had been agreed to raise her on Alderaan until such time as she was ready and then she would be sent to Dagobah to train under Quinlan Vos, the last Jedi Master.

Though Bail could not bring himself to fully support the rebellion, due to some strange relationship he had with the Emperor, he knew that his adopted daughter was destined to become a Jedi Knight. Leia, however, did not like the idea one bit and had done everything she could to keep from going.

"This isn't a committee meeting, miss prissy-princess," Dash said. "I've got orders to get you the hell out of here. There isn't time for a debate."

Corran shook his head as one of the ministers actually fainted. Several of the guards chuckled, glad to see somebody stand up to the princess. "I am not going!"

"Leia…" Bail started.

"Just who the hell do you think you are?" Dash asked, putting his hands on his hips and standing to his full height. Leia backed up just a step. "This isn't about what you want or what I want…it's about defeating the Empire." He looked around at the assembled people and knew he could not reveal the truth about Leia's heritage. 

Corran seemed to catch on and stepped in, his voice steady and sure. "You are a natural leader, princess, and as such you represent a great threat to the Empire. If you remain here, you also pose a threat to the safety of Alderaan. Your people are behind you, but you are bringing a world of trouble upon them with your outspoken views. Pilot training will give everyone a chance to take a deep breath and look at the situation rationally."

Bail was impressed by the young man's argument and was finally relieved that Bel Iblis had seen fit to send him along. He just wished the CorSec officer and his daughter would quit eying each other like two rong-dogs in season.

Leia wanted to argue, but finally relented. Head down, she slowly moved up the gangway and into the ship proper. A golden protocol droid followed her up. Before he could ask, Bail interjected. "See-Threepio belongs to her, an inheritance that cost me many credits to locate. He is an able, if not annoying droid."

"I don't like droids," Dash lied. He shrugged and went inside to make sure the princess was strapped in. Corran made the obligatory good-byes. Bail held him back for a moment longer. "I see the way you look at my daughter."

"Sir, I…"

Bail smiled. "Promise me you will watch over her. She is a princess in need of a knight."

"I'm no knight, just a man…"

"And keep Rendar away from her. He's got a good heart but he'll try to seduce her. I know his type." He laughed. "You are too well-mannered to be from Corellia, son; please accept my invitation to return any time you wish. You calmed the savage beast that is my beloved daughter." He gave Corran a final squeeze on the arm and then turned to exit the pad.

Two days later, Bail was marched into his own throne room by a squad of stormtroopers. They had been provided for his protection he was told and he had argued that there were no weapons on Alderaan outside the security forces. Who could harm him?

"Ah, Viceroy, it has been too long," Deceptra said from her seated position. She sat in Bail's chair on a raised dais. Her leg, crossed over the other one, bounced as she adjusted some controls on her wrist gauntlet. Bail briefly wondered how much machine she was now. 

"Lady Deceptra, it always a pleasure to be in your company," he replied with a bow. The stormtroopers moved off to stand next to all of the exits and windows.

"Still lamenting over the frail little senator you could not bed, Viceroy?" she laughed. She was wearing her hair down and it shimmered. Bail supposed it was her real hair. As she stood up, he refused to remove his gaze from her. 

A stormtrooper approached and jabbed him between the shoulder blades. "Avert your eyes!" he cried.

Bail fell to his knees and kept his head down. "My apologies, my lady; your beauty enthralls me as ever," he offered as an excuse.

Deceptra waved the trooper away and stopped in front Bail. She gave him permission to look upon her and he slowly started to raise his head. It was then he started to notice something important. Several years before, Deceptra had both legs replaced with mechanicals. The legs he saw not, visible below the skirt and above the knee-high boots was real. "Ah, you notice the changes. Our master Palpatine has his scientists working on even greater cloning techniques. These legs were taken from a clone of myself. Think of it Bail, you could have had a hundred of me to take to your chambers, all of them genetically predisposed to please you."

Bail slowly stood up. "You mock my feelings for you and you forget who you are. You forget about the politics you once believed in…"

"Politics that led to the death of the man I loved; a death I will avenge today," she promised as she started to slowly walk around Bail. "You were a dirty, perverted old man who fell in love with a child."

"I fell in love with the woman trapped in the child's body," he answered. "Killing me will not bring back Anakin! No amount of killing will do that."

A snap-hiss and Deceptra's crimson lightsaber flashed out and she took out Bail's leg just below the knee. The nerves were instantly cauterized and there was no pain, still Bail cried out in fright as he fell to the ground. "You will not mention his name, you rebel scum! Where is your whore daughter?"

Bail grasped his smoking knee and shook his head. He then felt the stab into his mind and he took the horror and rage he was feeling and used it as a defense. "Why prolong this, dear sweet Bail? You wasted your whole life pursuing a woman who would not have you."

Tears were rolling down Bail's face as he listened to the words coming from the mouth he so often wanted to kiss. It was true that their age difference had been great, but so had been his respect and admiration for her. Decades ago she had been so wise, so beautiful and so delicate. All of that changed when the brash Dark Lord of the Sith, Anakin Skywalker, had swept her off of her feet with his dark charm and good looks. 

He remembered Bel Iblis told him once that good girls were often drawn to bad boys. He inadvertently thought of his daughter and feared for her if she were attracted to someone like Dash Rendar. 

"She is with the Corellian rebel, is she?" Deceptra asked, waving the lightsaber in the air. Its hum unnerved Bail and he cursed himself for having been weak. If Deceptra found out the truth…

A black-gloved hand reached down and lifted Bail up. Though he stood several centimeters taller than her, Deceptra had him bodily over her head in a second. "You bastard! You filthy bastard! Why didn't you tell me?"

Bail shook his head again. "You are a filthy witch, a dark shadow of the woman you used to be. I could not stand by and watch you corrupt that child."

"A daughter! I have a daughter and you stole her from me! Your mind tells everything!" She heaved him across the room and used the Force to pin him against the wall, a meter off of the floor. "You had no right!"

"I had a duty! To hell with you, Deceptra!" Bail spit at her. "Look at yourself in the mirror and ask yourself if that is what you want your daughter to be. Are you still the same woman that Anakin Skywalker fell in love with?"

Deceptra used the Force to close off Bail's windpipe, but he still croaked out as much as he could. "He would be…horrified…I was the only…one who…who…loved you for who…you were…"

With a final cough he died and Deceptra released him. His body fell to the floor with a resounding thud and she turned to the stormtrooper captain. "Round up everyone in the palace and execute them. Get your men out of here immediately afterwards because I'm having the palace razed from orbit."

The troopers moved off to carry out her orders and Deceptra deactivated her lightsaber. Her heart was racing as she considered the possibilities. She had a daughter, something she had dreamed about as a little girl when she would play with her dollies outside of her parent's home. 

That meant Luke had a sister and Deceptra was reminded of her own sister on Naboo, back when she was someone else.

Wiping away a tear born of rage and casting a final glance at Bail Organna, Deceptra left the throne room to meet her shuttle.


	13. Chapter 12

Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior

By Christopher W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2002 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2002 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.

**CHAPTER 12**

Biggs Darklighter sat back and unbuttoned the top of his flightsuit, accepting the offered flask of water from his wingman, Porkins. The rotund Porkins was sweating twice as hard as the other pilots and the fact that he was surrendering his drink demonstrated his loyalty to his friend. "Thanks, Porky," Biggs said.

The dark-haired Darklighter was a native of the planet Tatooine and was no stranger to the heat. The humidity of the jungle moon of Yavin was far different from the dry deserts of his homeworld. He had lived there for most of his life before applying to and being accepted into the Imperial Academy. He had been subjected to chemical "indoctrination" that had removed his memories of the Death Star, memories that had only begun to return thanks to the counseling the rebellion was providing him.

All of the pilots in the ready room came to attention as the squadron commander entered. Red Leader, the commander's call sign, looked over his motley crew of rebel pilots. "All right you sorry sacks of dung, the new duty roster is up and it means double-duty for all of you," the gruff old officer said. He put a large cigar in his mouth and chewed on it. "We got a new pilot shipping in."

On cue, Tycho stepped out from behind Red Leader. No the worse for wear, considering the two weeks of interrogation he had gone through to determine whether or not he was a spy. Malakie's mental domination was more than enough to allow him to get through the simple tests. He pushed back his hair and smiled meekly at the other pilots. "This is commander Tycho Celchu. He has higher rank than you tug-hoppers because he has real military experience."

"I was a pilot, sir!" Biggs called out.

"You weren't a pilot until you came under my command, Darklighter! Before that was nothing, isn't that right, boys?" All of the pilots shouted an affirmative before Red Leader continued. "Commander Celchu is now your executive officer. He is familiar with all types of Imperial fighter craft. You will show him due respect or I will personally create a new orifice in your bodies to breathe through!"

Malakie listened to Tycho's thoughts and then slowly cut off his mental link as he concentrated on the red-haired woman seated in front of him. For two weeks he had been separated from both his mother and the others from the shuttle. Gethzerion, not considered much of a threat, he been released from questioning early. Apparently their cover story of being political prisoners escaping Dathomir had held.

That would last as long as nobody recognized her as being the warden of the penal colony and there was little chance of that happening. Malakie and Gethzerion had been the only persons to have ever escaped the prison planet alive. For now, he was content that his influence over Tycho and the four stormtroopers, who had been accepted into the ranks of the rebellion ground forces, was intact and required only occasional maintenance. Were he a fully trained Sith, that maintenance would be unnecessary.

That frustrated him and he clenched and unclenched his fists under the table. The woman, Mara Organna Mothma, was apparently a high commander in the rebellion, not that it impressed Malakie. He also could detect the Force coming from her but she did not employ it as he did and he wondered if she sensed something from him as well. It was as if she had no idea of the power she possessed.

"…understand that we haven't been able to classify your exact species. You look human but you aren't. There are subtle physical differences and since neither you or your mother have been forthcoming…"

Malakie smiled. It was a grin that had disarmed many a female Imperial officer. "As we stated before, we are simple travelers who were mistaken for political dissidents. My mother and I wish to examine the temples of this world. Nothing more."

She remained skeptical and Malakie noted that the man named Karde continued to eye him with suspicion. "And you just happened to meet up with some Imperial agents who were defecting to the rebellion?"

Malakie shrugged. "I care little for your rebellion. I have no love for the Empire, but I am not foolish enough to believe it can be taken down with these meager forces." He was lying, of course, as he believed that one person in the right place could alter the course of destiny. Palpatine had proven that and Malakie was sure his father would have as well. "To be honest, we had no idea there was a rebel base here. We were all just running away."

Karde shook his head. "Stormtroopers just don't run away."

Again Malakie shrugged. "These did."

Mara sighed and motioned for Karde to meet her outside of the room. Malakie stretched out with the Force and caught the mind of one of the guards outside. Through his ears, he listened to the conversation. "I can't tell if he's lying or what," Mara said.

"Is that because you don't know how or…?" he let the question trail off.

"If he has Force ability, I can't tell. I'm inclined to believe him only because we don't have evidence to the contrary. If we continue to hold him and his mother against their will, we become no better than the Empire." She started to tap her foot and Malakie absorbed the little snippet of information he had just gleaned. She was aware of her abilities but she did not appear to be properly trained. She was a kindred spirit and he had to admit that he did find her attractive. They were close in age and both seemed determined to see their lot in life through. 

He admired her honesty in admitting that she could not get a read on him and he wondered if that was because he was willing it or because someone else was protecting him.

Of course, my apprentice, I am protecting you. It is nothing but a parlor trick for one well versed in the Dark Side.

Malakie resisted the urge to look around. The voice had seemed to boom but after a moment he realized that it had all been in his head. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate.

No! Do not employ the Force so strongly or else she will detect. The Force is strong in her, not as strong as in you, but she is not to be dismissed. Do not let her feminine charms sway you from your destiny!

"Master Kunn?" he whispered.

Yes, it is I and you have performed well so far. This rebellion grows every day and gaining allies within it may help in our quest for ultimate power. Covet them for they are children eagerly needing attention. Fawn over them and they will accept you. Already your thrall is within their starfighter forces and you have others elsewhere. 

You would do your father proud.

Malakie straightened at this and a grim smile started to cross his face. He understood what his new master saying. He would hide in the open, seeking refuge with the rebellion until the time was right for him to strike out on his own. Gethzerion would not approve, but she would do as she was instructed. Already she had picked out the body she wished to have essence transferred into. A woman, a most beautiful one with sparkling blue eyes and hair so blond it was as white as Malakie's, had caught Gethzerion's eye.

The woman was apparently a special operative on loan from Alderaan, a planet Malakie had always been led to believe had no such things. Her name was Winter.

Boba Fett whirled and fired, taking down his fourth security agent in so many seconds, while Jango fired with two blasters at the agents who had barricaded the far end of the corridor. Another one popped his head around the corner and Boba scored his fifth kill of the day.

"This is not turning out how we expected it, father," Boba said with some sarcasm.

Behind his helmet, Jango smiled, enjoying being in a real battle after so many years of corporate security and minor bounty hunting. It was good to be back in action and all of his old senses and reflexes were kicking in. His extensive training in the Mandalorian ways had prepared him for his return even before he had left the Republic. He was a true warrior and his son, really an unaltered clone of himself, was just as good.

Boba needed real experience, though, which was one of the reasons why Jango had elected to return. He was getting older…not quite old yet…and he needed to make sure Boba would be all right without him when the day came. "No battle plan survives contact with the enemy," Jango reminded him, quoting from a Mandalorian tactics manual. "Improvise using the skills you have. Do not try to predict the future, react to the present," he said as two blue blaster bolts reduced a security agent's head to smoke and ash.

"These men are proving to be very loyal to their president!"

"Which makes them worthy foes. Like us, they will not shirk from their duty and they must be afforded the respect of a peer. Clean kills, my son!" 

Boba nodded and started to move away from his father, slowly closing the gap between them and the troops that had mustered behind them. They had come to capture the Chandrillan president, Mon Mothma, and her daughter, to bring before the Emperor. Their instructions provided a clause that if they could not secure their capture then they needed to execute them.

Technically, the Emperor was declaring war on Chandrilla, but somehow Boba Fett did not think anyone was going to care. For the past week, the Imperial press corps had been putting out stories that linked Mothma to several suspected rebel agents, including the renegade senator Garm Bel Iblis. The final nail in her coffin had been when Darth Deceptra had reported that Bail Organna of Alderaan, Mothma's lover, had been found guilty of sedition and executed for his crimes. The royal palace on Alderaan had been leveled by turbolaser bursts from orbit.

Both of the Fetts knew the entire affair was bantha fodder, especially Jango. The older bounty hunter was more than aware of what lengths Palpatine would go to, what deceptions he would weave, in order to remain in power. Even now, the Death Star was on its way here, diverted by Grand Moff Tarkin in order to investigate the claims of rebel sympathies. Chandrilla was the perfect hiding place for the rebellion as far as Tarkin was concerned.

This meant nothing to Boba, however, and he pushed the thoughts of political intrigue out of his mind. He had been a young boy when the republic had fell, too young to understand the reasons why. All he knew at the time were that the Jedi were the enemies of the bounty hunters and any cause against them was a worthy cause indeed. A wounded guard jumped Fett, yelling in almost primal rage. His reflexes took control and he smashed the leaping man's face with a backhanded slap. A quick double tap with the blaster and the man was no longer a threat.

Boba then looked up to see a burly guard, clad only in exercise shorts and small boots standing in the passage. If the hulking brute got by him, then he could possibly hurt Jango. As much as Boba admired and respected his father, he knew that the older man was no longer the warrior he had been. Boba holstered his blaster, seeing that the man wished to meet man-to-man. That was fine with him.

They met, hands locked as a test of strength began. The guards had the brute force, but Boba had managed to place himself so he would have leverage. It barely did any good as the guard was simply too tall to force over and slowly Boba felt himself being forced back.

The bounty hunter kicked out, the climbing spike in the toe of his boot digging deep into the guard's thigh. The guard merely grunted and pushed harder. Boba remained calm and chose a new target. Before he could pull his leg back, he felt the pressure lessen and the guard went down, grasping his punctured kneecap. Boba back away a step and put his right arm out. A simple tap of his gauntlet control and a rope line shot out and wrapped itself around the guard's neck.

The guard was by no means out and he reached up to pull the rope away from his neck. Boba released the line and then pull out his blaster as two other security men came out of an adjoining room with weapons drawn. His marksmanship saved his life for the moment but had cost him victory over the larger man. Wounded and limping, the big guard was standing up and pulling the rope from his throat.

Boba put himself into a relaxed stance, awaiting the newest attack when the man suddenly grasped his chest and fell. A small poisoned dart had struck him. Boba turned to his father, his face contorting in rage behind his helmet. "You had no right!"

"Do not raise your voice to me, Boba! We are here to perform a mission, not prove your manhood!" Jango twirled his pistols and then holstered them. "You can only become the best by completing your assignments. You have to know when to fight and when to not to."

Boba took a second to calm himself, but found he could not completely. He had chosen to fight the guard on his own in accordance with the ancient rites of combat. His father, by interrupting him, had brought dishonor to Boba. The younger bounty hunter was more than aware of the history of his people. He knew all of the laws and traditions of the Mandalorian peoples and he wondered if their time outside the Empire had somehow corrupted his father.

He had no time to contemplate any further. All of the guards were dead and Jango had already blasted away the door controls to the president's suite. The older man was busy rewiring the door to get it to open and Boba occupied himself by checking the charge on his blaster. "She is most likely armed," Jango commented. He knew his son was angry with him, but he assumed that he would get over it. 

The doors slid open with a hydraulic whine and the two bounty hunters strode in with their weapons drawn. One quick scan of the room told them all they needed to know. 

Jango walked over to the president's desk and pushed the dead body of Mon Mothma out of the chair. A small sporting blaster fell smoking from her hand and Boba noted the small burn on the side of her skull. "This is unfortunate," Jango said as he sat down at the desk. He brought up the computer terminal and began typing in various commands. After a few minutes, he admitted defeat. "She's wiped out all of her personal records."

"That will make tracking her daughter harder, but not impossible," Boba said as he walked around the room. There was nothing around to give any indication where Mara had fled. 

"She may be trying to meet up with her sister, the escaped Princess Leia," Jango said as he stood up. He pressed a small button on his gauntlet and whispered something into it. "We need to go. _Slave 1_ is on its way here and I'd say Tarkin is far behind."

"Maybe we should let him know what we have found," Boba offered.

Jango shook his head. "Tarkin is a dangerous man and a man with big plans. Its better to stay away from him. Stick to our agreement, collect the credits and move on. Don't ever try to get on the Empire's good side because it doesn't have one."

"I just thought they might share some information with us…"

Jango laughed. "Tarkin? He hates bounty hunters. I remember that little Jawa when he was a senator…spineless man. No, we'll keep our information to ourselves. The first thing we need to do is go over all of the outgoing shipping logs for the past few months, see if we can see where this Mara woman went to."

"And then?" Boba asked.

"We complete the contract."


	14. Chapter 13

Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior

By Christopher W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2002 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2002 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.

**CHAPTER 13**

"I live to serve only you, my mother," Luke Skywalker said as he knelt before the image of Darth Deceptra. The hologram frowned; his tone was somehow arrogant and disrespectful. The apprentice of Emperor Palpatine had received a report of her son's antics on Tatooine and while not impressed, she had not felt the need for alarm either.

"Rise, my son, so that I may look upon your face," she said coolly. 

Luke Skywalker did so and it was there that she noted the change that had occurred. Gone was the freshness of boyhood wonder to be replaced by the grim determination of a young man. He looked so much like his father, so hungry to take on the galaxy, so impatient.

The spies she had sent ahead to Tatooine had spoken of several illegal races her son had competed in and won, of course. Very few pilots in the galaxy could compare to Luke Skywalker! His reputation among the lower echelons was growing and Deceptra considered that a great advantage over many other promising young imperials. 

"I have heard many great things of you lately, my son," she said.

His face lightened. "I only try to bring more honor to the Skywalker name."

That was it! He was not trying to rebel and break away from his mother; he was trying to honor his father. Anakin Skywalker would have indeed been proud of his son. "Good, because that name is tainted as of now with deceit and lies."

Rage washed over her son and his knuckles whitened. "Tell me who dares to deceive my mother…"

She smiled. "You have heard about the razing of Alderaan?"

He nodded. The reports had come in to him and Han as they engaged in their debauchery on the desert planet. Luke had not fully read through them, not like Han had, but he still had plenty of time. He and his friend were currently on a cruiser heading for Core where their squadron was due to ship to the Death Star. As they were not part of the ship's air wing and had no fighters, there was nothing else for them to do. "I was pleased to see that Bail Organna, my father's true killer, was finally able to be dealt with."

"There is more, my son, something of which I am loathe to tell you."

"Nothing my mother says can ever break the bond between us," he responded. It was a true enough statement, she supposed. Perhaps it was the incredible loneliness she had felt after Anakin's death, but the Dark Lady of the Sith had put her entirety into raising her son. Their relationship transcended mere love; they were joined in the Force, the first two links in what she hoped would one day be the chains that bound the galaxy. 

In Luke, she had seen a bright future, a future she and Anakin had discussed between lovemaking sessions, when their bodies were left to cool in the brisk night air. Anakin had seen a galaxy that was so completely different from what was now true. Anakin had been naïve in his trust of Palpatine, but then so had young Padme Amidala.

"You have a sister. A twin sister."

Luke's holographic reflection paled, the blue hues lightened as he digested the information. His mind was swimming through all of the possibilities and while the Dark Side told him to be angry, told him that this sister, whomever she was, must die for not revealing herself, he could not hope but feel joy.

His reaction surprised Deceptra, but not because she was filled with venom over the betrayal by Bail Organna; she was surprised because Luke's mimicked her own. "A sister? We have the same father?"

"And mother," she reminded him with a smile. Her face softened and Luke suddenly felt sad. He had seen the pictures and holos of his mother before the accident that robbed her of her natural beauty and it seemed as if he were gazing upon that face now. "The Emperor does not know yet," she announced.

"You have not told him?" Luke questioned, his eye moving over to where his stormtrooper escort stood. They were required by Imperial law to report any hint of treason. He quickly scanned their minds and was reassured when he felt that they may have sworn an oath to Palpatine, but it was Deceptra they served.

"When I first found out about your sister, I was angry, but rightfully so," she began. "Bail Organna had no right to inflict such pain upon me."

"My twin is Leia?" he asked, embarrassed. The young princess had been a pod-racing rival for many years and he had even entertained the idea of their eventual coupling. At least now he understood the attraction he had felt. 

"Yes, but she is missing."

"I will find her."

"No; you are required on the Death Star with your commanding officer, my consort," she said, revealing for the first time her intentions to pursue a relationship with the Baron. Luke decided now was not the time to point out the potential problems with their union. 

"What of her sister, Mara?"

"Governor Tarkin's forces have raided Chandrilla only to find Mon Mothma dead from suicide. Mara is missing as well." Her image moved out of range of the holocamera and then moved back in. "That is why I want you on the Death Star. I am forwarding to you all of the information we have on Mara Mothma. You will help the governor find her and you will determine if she is a Jedi."

"Then she is not my sister?"

"No. I do not know whose child she is, but if Bail was hiding her, then there is something special about her, something that may well benefit the Empire."

Luke decided to push the issue. "Whose empire, mother?"

She took in a deep breath and her artificial eye began to glow brilliantly. "This is our Empire, my son, as it always has been."

"You still can't reach Alderaan?" Leia asked in a bored tone. Corran chuckled softly and adjusted their azimuth as they slowly descended towards the swirling mass of methane and mud below. Dagobah was a swamp world in the extreme. This was a place Gammoreans and Hutts would most likely come for romantic getaways.

"It looks like someone is jamming that entire sector of space. More than likely some of your rebel friends pulled a stunt…"

"The rebellion does not pull 'stunts'…"

"Shut your pie-hole little missy!" Dash said. He could not wait to land and finish this mission so he could get back to being a plain-old smuggler. Facing star destroyers with only a blaster was preferable to spending time with the spoiled Alderaanian princess.

He turned around and grumbled in his mind that he wasn't really being fair. The princess was an all right babe he figured, a little on the skinny side but he wouldn't kick her out of bed for eating rations. 

So she was opinionated; so was he! She had a passion for the common people, though, and he had to admit that some of her arguments made a lot of sense. He knew that his outlook on life, the Empire and everything was going to always be a little bit different now that he had been "educated" by her.

She wasn't exactly a slouch around the ship either. The _Outrider_ had never been so clean and she could fine-tune a hyperdrive like he had never seen. Too bad she couldn't cook because Corran's constant fair of Corellian sour bean sandwiches with Ithorian chum beer was tearing Dash's stomach apart. It didn't help that Leia and Corran also spent as much time as they could flirting with each other.

All Dash could think of right now was landing and giving her away to this Quinlan Vos fellow, hunting some local food and getting back into space. Corran had already agreed to stick with Dash for a little while longer, which would no doubt make Garm Bel Iblis happy. The two of them were beginning to click; Corran's raw energy and positive outlook helped to compensate Dash's tendency to shoot first and ask questions after they were safely away.

"How is it that you can't have manners like Corran?" she asked sarcastically.

"Because I'm not trying to sleep with you, sister," Dash whispered under his breath. He then turned to her and smiled. "Maybe he likes you. I don't."

Corran said nothing, but instead turned to watch the surface temperature gauge. As they entered the atmosphere, the hull temperature began to rise despite the shielding. He found the exercise relaxing, as he was nervous about the landing. The past few weeks, crisscrossing the galaxy to throw off pursuers, had given him a lot of time to not only reflect, but to learn more about the pretty girl from Alderaan.

She was a pod-racing champion, quite a feat for a human and she was ranked number six in the entire galaxy. Like him, she also enjoyed the newer and faster snubfighters the different manufacturers were putting out. But she was also concerned about social issues and this intrigued him. Corellians, in general, ignored social issues. Disputes were handled with fists and if you couldn't fight, you died. Corellia had no social welfare, no programs for refugees; in fact, you couldn't even immigrate to Corellia! 

"Do we know where we are supposed to land?" Corran finally asked.

"Bail said the information would just 'come to me'," Dash responded with a chuckle. "A bunch of Jedi hoodoo."

"You don't believe that Jedi can help?" Corran asked. It was a typical Corellian attitude. The Jedi were never much welcomed on Corellia. He then looked to Leia. "What do you think, your highness?"

Dash continued to chuckle, not realizing that his hands were moving over the controls and inputting landing coordinates. Leia sighed and then answered the question. "I only know what I've read and been told about the Jedi. I know that my father supported them and believed in them. However, one cannot dispute the recorded history if they just look at the facts."

She held a finger up. "First, they were a secretive organization. There is ample evidence that they believed they were somehow above the law of the Old Republic and this led to arrogance." Another finger. "Second, they did separate children from their families at very early ages and made them sever ties to their loved ones. This is intolerable and when I think that the old senate supported such moves, it chills me to the bone."

"Yeah, but wasn't it dangerous to have Jedi kids running around the planets, making stuff fly and controlling minds?" Dash asked, still piloting the _Outrider_ as if he knew exactly where to go. 

"Are they any more dangerous than a child that shows a tendency towards genius? How about a young person who is quick on the draw?" she asked, glancing down at Dash's low slung pistol. "The Force made the Jedi powerful, not invincible."

"Tell that to the Emperor," Corran muttered.

"But the Emperor is not a Jedi, he's a Sith, a totally different philosophy. Yes, he's powerful but not invincible. That's why we believe the rebellion can succeed. The Old Republic was corrupt, but the answer is not a dictatorship!"

Dash wanted to argue, but he couldn't. Even under the unfair trade laws of the Old Republic, Corellia was able to prosper, as were many other worlds in the galaxy. Palpatine's New Order directed that only those worlds that kissed the Emperor's toes received favorable treatment. His homeworld was slowly starving to death and it was all because of the New Order. "So, what sort of government should replace the current one?"

"Democracy gives people, all people, the chance to have a voice. The Imperial Senate is nothing more than Palpatine's puppet. I've been in several sessions where stormtroopers march in right before a critical vote. There's no choice." She looked out the viewport. "Do you know where you're going?"

"No," Dash said, his hand reaching down to adjust the trim. "I'm just sailing along, waiting for a telepathic call," he joked. Corran said nothing but glanced down at the holographic map of the surface and noted that they were definitely heading somewhere and not in a straight line.

"So, will the Jedi have a voice in this new government?" Corran asked, trying to draw her attention.

She smiled. "I hope so. If I am a Jedi, and I don't really know if I am, then I will want a say."

"Do you think there are other Jedi?"

She shook her head. "My father told me that when my sister and I were hidden it was because we were the last except for Master Vos. All of the others were either hunted down by Deceptra or escaped into the unknown regions. It's been nearly 18 years since the fall of the Republic and ten since the last Jedi Master was killed."

"Where is your sister anyway?" Dash asked. The ship dropped in altitude slightly. 

"She's doing her part for the Rebellion. It was agreed that I would train first and then she would." Corran asked why they wouldn't be trained together. Leia shrugged. "That was the plan, something about Jedi training more than one person at a time."

"The Jedi trained for years, though," Dash said, recalling the stories of his youth. "You ready to spend your best years here on the swamp world? Nobody wants to marry a bog hag, you know."

She laughed and Corran felt his face flush. "There is more to life than getting married!"

"Yeah, sex," Dash answered with a sly grin. Leia smiled as well. Only Corran did not find the comment amusing.

Dash stepped out of the _Outrider_ and into the smelly world of Dagobah. He had to calm his stomach as he tasted the air. "Blasters! This place reeks! Guess you won't have to worry about stinking when you sweat, your holiness."

Leia stomped past him and into an ankle high pile of material that looked very much like manure. Dash doubled-over in laughter and Corran hopped down, strapping his blaster on. 

The princess looked to the pilot, but said nothing. She realized that in her time on this world, whether she liked being there or not, she would probably end up walking through much worse than this. "How did you know to land here?" she asked, changing the subject.

Dash stopped laughing and scratched his head. "I don't know…"

"That would be my fault, I'm afraid," a voice said. All three turned, the two men drawing their weapons, as a tall, powerfully built man stepped out of the mists. His thick hair was now more gray than black and the tattoos on his body had faded with time, but his eyes still held the intensity of a Jedi master. "I am Quinlan Vos."

Leia stepped forward and bowed her head. Doing so put her nose in line with the rising stench coming from her boots. "I am Princess Leia Mothma Organna of Alderaan."

Quinlan stepped into view and Corran lowered his pistol. Dash did not and Quinlan sensed the outrage coming from the mercenary. "I assure you captain that any mind control was merely for your safety. Dagobah is not a friendly world and if one gets lost here, one dies."

"Touch my mind again and we'll see who dies," Dash grumbled.

"Dash!" Corran whispered excitedly. The mercenary waved him off and slowly holstered his blaster.

"No secrets here, Leia," Quinlan said, turning his attention to the stinking princess. "Your thoughts betray you and you wear your emotions on your face. I would think a politician would be better schooled in control and discipline."

"No secrets, Quinlan Vos," she replied with a smile. "I have no real desire to become a Jedi, but if it helps the Rebellion and aids in bringing down Palpatine, then I am willing to be trained. As for the emotions on my face, well, if you have seen as much suffering as I have seen, then you would not be so quick to judge."

"Yet, you will be judged, right or wrong, by how your are perceived. A Jedi must be flexible, flowing freely in the Force," he held his hands out, "passive."

"Being passive is what got you wiped out," Dash muttered.

Much to his surprise, Quinlan burst out in a healthy dose of laughter. "I, of all people, never thought I would live to see the day someone would call me passive! You bring mirth to this dismal place, Dash Rendar; I see in you the warrior spirit. In the days to come, you and I will speak much about this."

Dash shook his head. "Sorry, but I've upheld my end of the bargain for my master, Garm Bel Iblis. She's your problem now."

Leia's face suddenly darkened as she realized that she had grown used to the company of the two special operatives from Corellia. Corran stepped up, seeing the look on her face. "Perhaps we could stay a few days? Rest up, maybe do a little scouting, Dash? This could be a good place to hide sometime."

Dash looked around and then thought long and hard. The world was in an ideal spot, far away from any trade routes or pirate territories. "Maybe…" he said, rubbing his chin.

Quinlan's eyes closed and he seemed to be whispering. Suddenly, his eyes shot open. Her looked directly at Corran. "Yes, I think it would be a good idea if you stayed for a few days. I very much would like to get to know you, Corran Horn."

"How did you know my name?"

"He read your mind, kid," Dash said. 'Best be careful or he might tell the princess what you told me last night." He then wiggled his eyebrows at Leia and went back up into the _Outrider_.

"What did you say?" Leia asked, putting her hands on her hips.

Corran began to turn blood red and Quinlan again broke into a fit of laughter.


	15. Chapter 14

Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior

By Christopher W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2002 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2002 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.

**CHAPTER 14**

"You have been appointed as the governmental representative for Chandrilla?" Tarkin asked as he stroked the fur of his pet feline. The man standing before him was visibly nervous, as he should have been considering that he was standing before the second most powerful man in the galaxy. The Death Star had been in the Chandrilla system for a week now, a system now under complete and total martial law. A system now held within Tarkin's tightening grip.

It had only been a week since stormtroopers had assaulted the presidential palace with orders to arrest president Mon Mothma for treason against the Empire. Information verified by Darth Deceptra indicated that both Mon Mothma and Bail Organna had collaborated with Garm Bel Iblis, the former Corellian senator and self-proclaimed leader of the rebellion, to raise a figurative sword against the Emperor. It was an unexpected boon for Tarkin. This situation was providing him with information he desperately needed in order to crush the rebellion, but it was also giving him legitimate reasons to eliminate political rivals.

Currently, Deceptra was pursuing leads on the missing Princess Leia of Alderaan, a member of the former Imperial Senate. The information Tarkin had received was that she was a key member of the rebel leadership. Why Deceptra was involving herself in this matter that fell under his jurisdiction was beyond him but she was the one person outside the Emperor that he had no control over. Let her catch the rebel if it made her feel useful, he laughed silently to himself. At least then he would know what she was doing.

"I...I am," the man stammered. He had once been, according to the state computer files that Imperial technicians had confiscated, the minister of agriculture or some other minor cabinet post. Now he was speaking for the whole of his world. Tarkin wondered grimly if the man realized that this was all a formality, that the Grand Moff had decided the fate of his world before the Death Star had even arrived here.

"Then you are prepared to surrender your world to me?"

"I…I don't know if I can…" the man said, his nervousness bringing him to the edge of collapse. He knew he was in way over his head and Tarkin was quickly becoming bored with him. Tarkin nodded to the stormtrooper captain behind the man and continued to stroke his pet as the soldier executed the man with a precise laser blast through the back that incinerated the representative's heart. Tarkin sighed and looked over to the holographic image of the planet Chandrilla. 

"I suppose it will have to go," he mused. It wasn't a lament over the final fate of the planet, but a sort of protest to his own rigid schedule. He needed more information but he had places to go, leads to follow up on. Plus, keeping the Death Star in any one place was not a good military exercise. Half of the psychological effect of such a massive battle station was that Imperial systems never knew when or where it would appear.

He mentally reviewed what he and his people had learned over the past week. The local security forces were engaged by mercenaries just prior to the arrival of Imperial troops, but he didn't know who had sent them or exactly whom they were. He knew that Bail Organna had betrayed the Emperor, but he did not know exactly how. He supposed it was financial in nature considering the wealth of the planet of Alderaan, but he also knew that Organna had been something of an idealist. People like that always tried to interfere in the plans of their betters.

Chandrilla was an entirely different matter from Alderaan. Mon Mothma had been a powerful political figure, but her world was plain. It had many resources, but no abundance of any. It had many industries, but excelled in no sector. What was it about Mon Mothma that had infuriated the Emperor so much that he had sent the Death Star here? Had he suspected her involvement in the Rebellion from the beginning? What he wouldn't give for just five minutes inside the head of the Emperor!

Tarkin was being given wide latitude to deal with this situation as he saw fit, the Emperor not putting any specific restrictions on his actions. He wondered if Palpatine knew what Tarkin intended for Chandrilla? If he did, then his silence was permission; if he didn't, his stupidity would be his undoing!

Tarkin suppressed another chuckle; he had been particularly jovial during the last few weeks. It had all started with the death of Zsinj, a man whom Tarkin considered and over-sexed perverted fool who should never have been given a military command. His death had allowed Tarkin to dump Thrawn into the Dathomir system. Let Palpatine's pet alien talk about art with the dregs of the Imperial navy!

The only thing that ever seemed to sour Tarkin's mood was Soontir Fel. The man had yet to do anything against Tarkin, but he questioned everything. Fel was a by-the-book officer whose loyalty to the Emperor was never doubted. Unfortunately, Tarkin felt that on the Death Star, only loyalty to him mattered. Fel's romantic connection to Darth Deceptra didn't help out either because it meant that Fel had a channel outside the military chain of command.

He wondered how Fel would react to what was about to happen. The TIE pilot had always showed fierceness in battle, but he was also one to show mercy just as easily if the situation allowed it. Mercy was for lesser beings Tarkin felt.

An example had to be made and while Tarkin would have preferred to lay waste to Alderaan with it's undeserved wealth, Chandrilla provided a more legal target. If Tarkin wanted to win over more powerful families to his cause, then he had to work within the system. Palpatine had done the exact same thing, but now he had created a cult of sycophants surrounding him and Tarkin was not the only person in the hierarchy of the Empire that was not pleased with it. Palpatine was drifting away from the concepts of the New Order and Tarkin believed that with the Death Star, he could put the universe back on the right path.

His junior officers suspected that was Tarkin's plan, but he had not voiced it to any of them. In time he would have to start bringing in some of them, but not after he had finished training them in accepting his orders without question. He was nearly there; many of the officers on the Death Star would kill for him. He just wasn't sure if they would die for him.

He stood up and dropped his pet. The animal went over and began sniffing at the cooked flesh of the minister. Tarkin reached down and touched a button on his desk and a voice answered quickly over the com-unit. "Proceed, Commander."

"Yes, sir," the Death Star's gunnery officer answered. The lights dimmed slightly and Tarkin made a mental note to speak with the chief engineer about ensuring enough auxiliary power for the entire station during battle operations. Tarkin turned to look out the viewport of his office, wishing that he had thought of some sort of ceremony to mark this situation. He moved over to the music system installed in the bulkhead and programmed in a favorite symphony. It was a recording from the Old Republic by the Royal Alderaanian Orchestra. The selection was from the opera _Death of a Dream_. Tarkin had been unfortunate enough to witness it being performed in Wookie as a young man. It had helped shape his indignation of alien species.

As the music played, Tarkin glanced out to see several star destroyers and picket ships moving into the clear zone, a distance far enough away that their defense shields would be able to protect them from the debris. After the world was destroyed, most of this part of the system would be a whirling mass of gravitational distortions. At sub-light speed, most of the vessels that were attached to the Death Star, including the space station itself, would be unable to jump to light speed for another six hours.

There would be other problems as well. The paths of any stellar visitors, such as comets, would be greatly disrupted and they would be forced to deviate for the first time in millions of years. Interstellar transmissions would be impossible because of the space-time distortions. Trade routes would be disrupted and economies for several other worlds would be near collapse until the worlds that were aligning themselves with Tarkin stepped in to provide "aid".

A display panel indicated that the weapon's emitters, those smaller lasers whose products would be combined into one powerful blast, were nearly charged. A voice boomed over the station's loudspeaker system, counting down the time until the weapon fired. Two stormtroopers started to drag out the body of the prisoner and the stormtrooper captain was busy speaking though his helmet's communication system. 

Tarkin's pet rubbed on his leg making sounds of pleasure, but he paid it no heed. Instead, he imagined that he could look down on the planet and see the people as they pointed up into sky. No doubt the Death Star could be seen, but he wondered if the people understood its true meaning. A god of death named Tarkin was hovering above them and he was about to smite them.

As if in response, the main gun fired. A kilometer-wide green spear of light crossed the distance between the Death Star and the planet. The music in the background reached a crescendo as the planet exploded into an infinite number of particles, reduced to the basic building blocks by which it had been formed.

There was no sound that Tarkin could make out, though he wondered if the collapsing atmosphere allowed for one last resounding moan. If it did, was it the simple death of a hunk of rock or was it the combination of the cried of the damned citizens as they met their fate.

Or was it the Force raging over the loss of so many innocents?

Tarkin had expected more a flash, but the cold void of space proved too powerful and snuffed out the fires before they could even start. Chandrilla was dead before the emitter tips cooled.

It took Baron Fel five minutes to storm into Tarkin's office. The stormtrooper captain made to stop him, but Tarkin called him off. "Is there a problem, Captain Fel?"

He was sweating and his knuckles were white. "You destroyed the planet!"

"I didn't think I had to answer to you, Captain; in fact, I'm positive I don't. You report to me." Tarkin sat down and pressed a button, closing the blast shield doors for his viewport. "You don't need to be reminded of that, do you?"

Fel brought himself to attention. "I had men on the planet!"

"My, my," Tarkin said, shaking his head. "Your yeoman didn't receive my order to ensure that all Imperial troops were off the planet by 1300 hours?" He could tell Fel had not known about it, as had been Tarkin's orders. He had hoped to possibly catch the Hero of the Empire on the surface. "I'll have my people look into it."

"That is not good enough! I lost half my squadron! They were down there trying to get replacement parts for our TIE Interceptors!" Fel resisted the urge to smash a fist on Tarkin's desk. "Why didn't you publish a general order? That is standard Imperial procedure!"

"I will not explain how I run my battle station to a subordinate! Escort the Captain out!" Tarkin barked. The stormtrooper reached out and grabbed Fel by the arm. The pilot shook off the guard.

"This isn't the last of this! You have made a big mistake!"

"Is that a threat?"

"No," Fel said with a smile. "It isn't. You've just destroyed half of the Empire's finest set of pilots. I won't have to say a thing." Fel laughed and then did an about-face, exiting very quickly.

"Begin download," the communications officer ordered. The Death Star would grab all subspace message traffic it could before hopping into hyperspace. The young lieutenant walked around the computer terminals, observing every technician and making mental notes about which ones were performing efficiently and which ones he might have to have executed one day.

"Sir," the technician in charge of top-secret-only traffic. "Flash-priority message!"

The officer came up and pushed the technician out of his seat. He sat down and pulled the cipher from his breast pocket and inserted it into the terminal. Immediately, a message scrolled across the screen. "Sithspawn!" the officer shouted.

Tarkin took another bite from his meal as the officer continued to stand at attention. "Report," the Grand Moff ordered.

"Sir, the entire Corellian system is in open revolt. The Emperor has ordered us to divert from going to Alderaan and enter the system to quell the uprisings." The lieutenant looked around, surveying the trappings of power.

Tarkin cursed silently. He had not expected this at all. How could anyone on Corellia have find out about Chandrilla so quickly? The Emperor would not have announced the destruction of the planet until the next day, when the Death Star appeared in orbit around some other planet.

Only someone like Garm Bel Iblis could organize such effective resistance so quickly, but where did he get the information.

He stopped in mid-thought and dismissed the communications officer. When he was gone, Tarkin issued orders to his bodyguards. "Arrest Baron Fel immediately."


	16. Chapter 15

Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior

By Christopher W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2003 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2003 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.

**CHAPTER 15**

"I hate bars," Boba Fett said as he and his father strode into the smoky room. A jizz-band was playing in the background, the singer either drunk or a hopelessly poor talent, wailed to the music. Several glances were cast at the two and some figures in the darkest corners slowly made their way to one of the many exits.

"It's the best place to find information," Jango remarked as they moved towards the bar. Nobody tried to stop them, many of the older spacers putting their hands on the shoulders of their younger partners. Within a minute, the entire cantina realized that Jango Fett was back, seemingly from the dead. "We need to find a trail."

"And you think its here?" Boba asked, not believing it. He was itching to get back to their ship. He honestly hated bars, watching people poison themselves with smoke and drink and the Force knew what else. These people disgusted him in a way he could not even begin to describe.

He was not here to offer opinions, though, and his training and discipline kicked in as he marched behind his father, his blaster rifle loose and ready for action. Jango Fett stepped up and a barfly moved away after seeing her reflection in the visor of the bounty hunter's helmet. The bartender, a large four-armed alien that Boba could not identify stepped up. "Nice costume," it said in Basic.

"I can't believe you're still alive," Jango said as he put his own blaster rifle on the bar. The alien looked down at it and shook his head. He said something about no weapons, but Jango ignored him.

"You'll never change," the alien said with a smile. He nodded towards Boba. "Is that your kid?"

Jango said it was. The alien smiled, showing sharp green teeth. "Don't remember me, do ya?" Boba said nothing but instead turned his head away and let his father continue the discussion with the bartender. Jango had indicated that this particular bar, located on the planet Kuat, was home to a unique breed of scum. These were not the best pilots in the galaxy, but the most desperate. It was from here that the mighty shipyards often found test pilots for their prototypes.

The pay it was said was very good, but the risks were too high for the better pilots. It was also a good place to pick up loaners, or ships for rent. Jango had figured that Mara had joined up with the rebellion proper. If that was true, it was possible that some of the vessels in the smaller yards of Kuat were being rented out using Chandrillan funds.

Boba could feel the tension in the air and he could guess that his father's reputation was too much of a temptation for some of the others in the cantina. A rather surely looking man approached and Boba took a few steps towards him.

"Aren't you a pretty little thing?" the man said. Boba was thankful for the helmet after getting a look at the man's dental work. "You one of them Jedi killers?" The man then turned to the rest of the patrons and raised his voice. "Looky here everyone! We got us two true blue Mandalorian Warriors!"

Jango ignored the man and continued speaking in hushed tones with the bartender who looked at Boba's back and could tell the younger man was like a predator ready to spring. In the old days, it would have been Jango staring down the whole establishment. Looking at Boba was like looking into the past.

"You need to sit down and keep destroying your brain cells, cretin," Boba replied, his voice sounding cold through his helmet filter.

The man poked Boba in the chest. "You don't tell me what to do, boy!"

Boba moved like a predatory cat, his hand lancing out and gasping the throat of the man. A quick twist and the man's throat was crushed. Even as the man sagged, grasping his neck, another patron was pulling out a holdout blaster from an inner skin fold. The alien aimed for Boba who had his rifle up as well. 

Both fired at the same time and both compensated for the expected dodge. Boba did not move and the blast passed by his shoulder and caught the barfly in the shoulder, sending her spinning. The alien who had fired the shot went down in a heap as his head exploded.

A Bothan snarled and leapt over several patrons and tables, holding a wicked-looking knife. Boba didn't hesitate to bring his other arm up and activate the grappling line. It had the Bothan ensnared before the alien hit the floor. Boba stepped over the agitated alien and Boba dodged a wild swing with a bottle of cheap brew. He fired a wide-angle stun blast into the general direction of the crowd and swung back to knock his attacker in the head with his rifle butt. 

"There's a lot of anger in your kid," the bartender said.

Jango shrugged and accepted a tall glass of water with a long straw. He opened a small hatch in his helmet and put the straw through. "He can't stand waste."

"Sounds like he's too much like his old man," the alien chided. He didn't bother trying to stop Boba. If he had been trained as a true Mandalorian warrior under Jango Fett, then the best thing to do was let him do what he had to do and then send Jango the bill. He and Jango had worked several profitable ventures back in the old days, back before the Empire.

In those days, Jango Fett was not known so much by his actions, but by the myths that surrounded him. If you were fortunate enough to work with him, the credits could be beyond imagining. The bartender had been part of a particularly large group Fett had compiled to search for, of all things, a buried treasure rumored to be on some backwater world.

When the treasure, which turned out to be inside a crashed freighter, was found, the entire group, except the bartender, had turned on Fett. That kind of loyalty was not lost on the bounty hunter. Over the years, when Jango had retired to the Outer Regions to ply his trade as, and the alien had to chuckle at the thought, a law enforcement officer for a farming community, it had been the bartender that sent him regular packets of information about the comings and goings of the galaxy-wide underworld.

Fett had been surprised to find out that Black Sun was back on the rise, rumor being that a new, mysterious leader had gained control of the warring factions. The organization had been splintered by Darth Maul, the former apprentice of the Emperor, and it was thought by many that it could never reform. 

Another alien died and the jizz-band ran off stage as Boba kicked a would-be assassin into the instruments. It had been decades since a Mandalorian had cleaned house and this was a sure-fire way to let the galaxy know that Jango Fett was back and he wasn't alone.

"Do you have the information I wanted?" Jango asked. Someone started to come at him but Boba caught them in the neck with a poisoned dart. 

The bartender pushed over a memory chip. "It took some doing. With Chandrilla blown to bits, their currency is worthless except on the collector's market. Whomever this chickie your looking for is, she had converted her cash over to Imperial script through, shall we say, illegal means."

Jango understood exactly. It meant that Mara Mothma was getting help from the underworld. Her personal fortune would have been worthless unless someone was willing to exchange her credits. "Black Sun?"

The bartender nodded. "The rebellion is working with them, but Black Sun is working the Imperial side as well. Pretty smart way to rebuild." There was the sound of bones cracking and a female bounty hunter went down, her hands holding her broke thighbone. Boba stopped and looked around the cantina. Those that were not moving were dead; anybody who was had injuries. "Let this be a warning: do not touch me. Do not approach me. When I enter the room, get out of my way. Unless you have credits to spend on my services, then you are taking up my space."

"Didn't you give that speech once on Tatooine in Jabba's palace?" the alien asked.

Jango actually smiled behind his helmet, a sign he was mellowing slightly in his old age. Looking at Boba, who was actually a clone of him, he was seeing what he must have been like only twenty years before. "Thanks. Send me the bill."

The bartender pushed over another memory chip. "Already figured it out. I was expecting you after all."

"I don't understand why you paid him extra, father," Boba said as he engaged the hyperdrive for _Slave I_. "If he had kept a better patronage, then maybe there would not have been as much damage."

Jango said nothing but instead wondered if perhaps it had been a mistake to raise Boba on his own. Maybe if the boy had been granted a mother early on he wouldn't be so quick to rush into danger. He was trying to live out the life of the Mandalorian as it was displayed in entertainment holos. 

Jango Fett had many regrets in his life, the number one being getting mixed up with Palpatine. Palpatine's idea of order was nothing more than disorder in a pretty package. The Empire appeared efficient, but it wasn't. The rebellion was only one symptom of the disease and he had begun questioning taking on this mission to find Mara Mothma.

Then he would listen to Boba speak and he realized that he was looking into a mirror of the past. Jango had been the exact same way, a warrior looking for war. Maybe he should have been harder on him; maybe it would have been better to abandon the boy at some point and let him learn about the galaxy the hard way. Instead, his son saw the universe through a rose-colored visor.

Yes, Boba Fett was dangerous, a skilled bounty hunter and tracker. He was the perfect example of the Mandalorian warrior except for one thing: he lacked patience. Patience normally came with the desire to do something correctly, such as get revenge. Jango knew that if for some reason he had been killed when Boba was a boy, that the younger Fett would have nursed his rage and learned the value of subtlety. 

Jango sighed. "He's a good friend."

"We don't need friends."

"I wish that were true, but it isn't. I'm not saying we should go out drinking and chasing women together, not that I would, but you need to have people you can rely on in an emergency." Jango removed his helmet and set it down, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. "Have you put in the course?"

Boba nodded. "The information indicates that several shipments of medical supplies put in flight plans to Mon Calamari; so why are we going to Yavin?"

Fett pulled up a star chart. "Here is Mon Calamari. A couple of parsecs out is an old trade route that takes you to Yavin. In the old days, even before my time, smugglers used to hole up in Yavin if the security forces were after them. I doubt the Imperials know about it because they do not often employ space pirates."

"They execute them," Boba finished.

Jango nodded. "But do you know who would know about it?"

"Black Sun?"

"Exactly. I looked for medical supplies going to worlds that normally would not need them. There is an Imperial garrison on Mon Calamari, but they don't need fifteen shipments of supplies." He pressed another button and brought up a list of ships. "See these? These are the names of vessels rented out on Kuat; with Corellia under interdiction, this is the only place to get decent freighters. None of these vessels ever picked up any cargo, yet these vessel types did."

"The pilots changed the vessel registrations?" Boba asked, absorbing the information.

"Yes. Now, when the Imperial accountants go back to verify if the correct taxes were paid, there is going to be all sorts of confusion." He pressed another screen. "The names that the smugglers used, as well as the transponder codes, all correspond to vessels that the Imperials have impounded on the other side of the galaxy."

"They'll spends weeks trying to figure out what happened; but won't they start searching for the spy that provided the names of the ships and transponder codes to the Rebels?"

Jango laughed. "I'll bet that spy is highly placed that he'll never be suspected. These Rebels are making a lot of trouble. In a way it's admirable."

"They are rabble-rousers, father. They need to be brought down."

Jango regarded his son and he saw a familiar look in his eyes. It was a look Jango used to see in the mirror every morning and now did not. He really had changed. "Well, politics is not our business, is it? The first rule of being a bounty hunter is…"

"Never get involved," Boba responded.

"Right," Jango said, not entirely convinced. "Never get involved."


	17. Chapter 16

Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior

By Christopher W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2003 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2003 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.

**CHAPTER 16**

Darth Deceptra walked briskly through the passageways that ran like veins through the Emperor's castle. Her high boots marking her pace as she moved past Crimson Guardsmen standing like statues, unmoving but yet ever alert. It felt good to move with such freedom and she enjoyed the fact that she now had real legs, grown from a clone of herself, to carry her along.

For many years, she was afraid that she would become more machine than woman, but the Emperor was fond of her and lavished her with gifts of flesh. Now there was only the mechanical eye to betray her injuries and she refused to have it removed. It had become a part of her, a reminder of the day her beloved Anakin was taken away from her. The same day she gave birth to her son.

And to her daughter.

She was not sure how she felt about Leia. From what she knew of the child, she was an excellent pilot and a born politician and Deceptra could not help but feel a little pride about that. She reminded the Dark Lady of herself so many years before. But Leia was, like Padme Amidala, blinded by her passions. She did not see that someone had to rule and when they did, it had to be with an iron fist. Debate sparked backlog, which led to apathy, and then the entire system would end up breaking down.

Anakin had once told her that maybe it was better if one person ruled; one mind to make all of the decisions. She had laughed at the time, thinking it was ridiculous. Now she knew otherwise. Had the Old Republic been allowed to continue with it's personal police force of Jedi Knights, then more worlds would have fallen under the influence of the alien minorities. Those minorities saw themselves as the masters of the galaxy and to that end; they would destroy the humans along the way.

Palaptine had proved to her that humans were destined to rule the galaxy. Any race that could accept that and accept their place in the order of things was rewarded, such as in the case of Grand Admiral Thrawn. Rebel, as the Gunguns of Naboo had, then there was only extermination. 

"Lady Deceptra," Sate Pestage said, bowing low. He stood in front of the door to the Emperor's private chambers. Years before, when Deceptra had come to this chamber for the first time, to lie with her master in the manner expected of the female apprentice, it had been Sate Pestage who had waited with her.

He was a man who had many duties and held many positions, it was very hard to pin down exactly what he was to the Emperor besides a very trusted aid. He had aided the Emperor in his rise to power and had remained faithful to him over the long years since. "Sate Pestage, I should have known you would be here." She gave him permission to look upon her. "It does my heart good to see an old friend."

Pestage seemed taken aback by her friendly manner. "I thank you, my lady; you warm an old man's bones. How is your son, the Emperor's Fist?"

"Seeing action in the Corellian System I would guess," she replied with a smile.

"Indeed," Pestage said. He seemed unwilling to speak any further and she picked up the trickle of a thought coming from him.

"You have something else you wish to talk about? Surely you and I are not here at the same time to see the Emperor?" she asked.

"No, my lady," he said, his eyes lowered. "I must ask you for your weapon."

"My lightsaber?" she laughed out loud. "No. I will not surrender it. I may think of you more fondly than others, Sate Pestage, but don't confuse that with stupidity. I am a Sith; we do not surrender our weapons to anyone."

"It is by order of the Emperor himself. None may enter his private chambers armed," Pestage offered. "These are difficult times."

Deceptra felt something flowing through the Force. "Something has occurred, hasn't it?"

"It is better that the Emperor himself tell you. Your travels in pursuit of the Alderaanian rebels has kept you unaware of some affairs of state." Pestage looked nervous and two Crimson Guardsmen stepped up. It was not a threat but merely a demonstration that Pestage was only following orders.

"I will not surrender my weapon," she said and waved her hand. The Guardsmen flew back and slammed hard against the wall. Pestage looked ready to soil himself. "Open the door and announce me. My master has nothing to fear from me."

Pestage nodded and moved to the door and opened it in a hurry. Deceptra stepped inside right behind him and they walked towards the throne of the Emperor. Like most times, it was turned away from them so the Emperor could look outside at the lightning storms. Many said that the Emperor received his inspirations from the lightning, while others said he used it as a medium to speak with the ancient Dark Lords.

Pestage announced her and then backed away slowly. He did not leave, however, meaning that the Palpatine had granted him leave to stay and observe. Deceptra dropped to one knee. "Your servant awaits your command, my master."

The Emperor did not turn his throne. "You were told to leave your lightsaber outside. Instead, you attack my guards. Has everyone gone mad around me? Do you all forget who is in command here?"

"My master, you trained me to never surrender…"

"Silence!" he cried out, the throne turning as the lightning flashed and the thunder roared. His face was twisted in anger and his eyes were wild with rage. "I am the Emperor of the New Order, a Dark Lord of the Sith and master of the universe! Who are you to second-guess me?"

Deceptra was shaking despite herself. The Force was alive with pure hatred. When Tarkin had destroyed Chandrilla, Deceptra had felt it in the Force, but it had not caused her any ill effects. The deaths had bolstered the Dark Side. Now, it was the Dark Side that was surrounding her with a deathly chill.

The Emperor slowly stood up. "It was I who orchestrated the collapse of the Old Republic. Not through the use of force, not through troops, but through the Dark Side! It was I who manipulated the Jedi and led them astray!" He started to walk towards her. "Yet, I am surrounded by those who wrongly believe that their will should surpass mine. From my most loyal apprentice to those military officers I place over my forces."

Deceptra did not understand what the Emperor was talking about. She had never seen him in such a state. The Force was pressing down on her and she found it difficult to breathe. She was literally being crushed by her master's ire. "Tell me, Lady Deceptra, what news do you bring me? Have you found the rebel princess that you now obsess over?"

"She is my daughter," Deceptra squeaked out.

The Emperor laughed. "Of course she is. I should have guessed that Bail would betray me so. It was only his infatuation with you that kept me from guessing his true intentions." 

"She could be a powerful weapon…"

"I did not tell you to speak!" the Emperor snapped. 

Deceptra bit her tongue and kept looking at the floor. For several minutes, there was only the thunder outside and she tried to reach out in the Force to her master. When they had been lovers she had done the same thing, exciting him on a level far beyond the physical. It seemed to be working because she could feel the weight lifting from the air around her. 

Then she caught something else on the Force. "You feel it, don't you?" the Emperor asked. "I have been spending several days trying to isolate it, but it eludes my every probe. Perhaps if my apprentice had been here with me instead of running around the galaxy like some distraught wet-nurse." The Emperor allowed her to finally rise. "There is a great disturbance in the Dark Side, but I cannot read it. Something far away and ancient, something close and new."

The Emperor was not speaking it riddles, he was simply trying to explain what he was feeling, silently asking for her evaluation. The truth was that she had not been relying on the Force as much in recent weeks. There had been no real need and now she understood her folly. Had she been fully open to the Force, perhaps she would have sensed the tremors in the Force.

"There is much more. Grand Moff Tarkin has arrested Baron Fel for treason. The Corellian system is in full rebellion even with the Death Star in system. Tarkin has requested permission to destroy Corellia."

"Baron Fel is not a traitor!" she exclaimed. The Emperor turned and regarded her with a crooked, yellow eye. "No, he is not and I will see to it that he is set free, but I have been preoccupied."

Suddenly, the Emperor's face showed the fatigue he was feeling. The drain on the Dark Side must have been incredible. "I am relieved…"

"I am sure you are, but now is not the time for your erotic fantasies. You will leave immediately for the Corellia system and assume control of the Death Star." The Emperor saw the surprised look on her face. "I have gleaned the future and I see Tarkin betraying me."

Deceptra coldly wondered if her master was just being paranoid. Of all of the officers in the military, save for Fel and Thrawn, none seemed more loyal than Tarkin. Placing Fel under arrest was probably not wise, but it certainly did not indicate treason. "Are you sure, master?"

"Why am I being questioned?" he snapped, his fury rising again. "Go! Do my bidding!"

Deceptra stepped back and whirled, her cape masking the horror on her face as she quickly exited the throne room.

The daylight of Imperial Center burned into his eyes for it was the first time they had ever been used in such a manner. Since his birth, his eyes had been closed as he grew to adulthood inside a chamber little bigger than his own body.

He had memories of the sun and of days spent under many of them, but he wasn't sure if they were his memories. He had awakened to find himself in a dark room filled with rows of chambers similar to the one he had been in. Several of them were dark on the inside; some held skeletons. It had been a technological graveyard and he was now the living dead he mused.

He knew his name, if it could truly be called his, and he understood the Force. He felt the Force around him and he reached out with it. Every time he did it was like putting his mind into an electric current. He knew what he was supposed to do, but his body was not reacting the way he thought it should.

It finally occurred to him that he was weak and hungry. He knew now he had to seek out something to eat and a predatory instinct washed over him. He called the Force to him and jumped ten meters into the air to land on a catwalk. Someone standing there made to say something to him, but he waved his hand and tore the man's mind from his brain. Such things were simple and required no extra thought, but it was still taxing. He had to find food soon.

With food would come energy and balance to his body. When the body was in balance, then the mind would follow and then would come balance in the Force. He was not sure what was supposed to come after that; in fact, he wasn't even sure where he was supposed to go.

His eyes drifted to the skyline where the Emperor's palace was lit against the backdrop of the lightning storm. Something in the Force stirred as he watched the lightning dance.

Something familiar.  


	18. Chapter 17

Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior

By Christopher W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2003 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2003 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.

**CHAPTER 17**

Malakie could feel the eyes of the rebel soldiers upon him as he made his way into the jungle, past the perimeter fence set up around the base. The guards were by now used to the exotic looking man that the female soldiers whispered about and the way he went out to explore every day. 

Nobody dared to follow him, as he was fearless in the way he went about. Not even the toughest rebel would dare to go out into the jungle without a blaster and spare power pack. Yet Malakie went out everyday and returned at night. The rebels allowed him to stay because he provided good recon, never suspecting that each night he was using the Force to maintain his control over Tycho and the stormtroopers.

Once he was far enough away, he opened his mind. The moon of Yavin was filled with the Force, an almost magical place for those who could sense it. It was no wonder that Exar Kunn had come here. Malakie had continued to grow in the Force, becoming stronger every day. Even his mother was starting to show signs of improvement. She no longer looked ragged but she still planned to take the body of Winter for herself. It was a shame in a way for Malakie found Winter pleasing to the eye, so different from the scarred witches of Dathomir or the military-types that worked the old prison.

The Rebels had access to the Imperial holonet and every day new information about the changing galaxy was relayed to him in casual conversation with some of the soldiers. His own people had integrated well into the Alliance and were also feeding him intel on matters that were not discussed in the open.

Mara Mothma had been missing for several days and Malakie had only recently learned that the Empire had destroyed her home world. That surprised him, as he could never imagine a weapon powerful enough to render a planet to dust. Mara had taken it very hard and he felt her pain through the Force. He had not sensed the destruction of the planet, but the spirit of Exar Kunn had explained that he was not in tune enough with the galaxy, not the way Mara was. It was his limited experiences that gave him tunnel vision when it came to the Force. Malakie could kill and manipulate but it was hard for him to just feel.

Mara, on the other hand, appeared to use her abilities to sense everything. She was a natural gambler, a dealmaker and he could see why the Rebels valued her so much. It was she, along with the mysterious Talon Karde that were making the deals to get supplies into the hands of the rebellion with limited funds. He knew that she must be under tremendous strain with the obliteration of Chandrilla and he wanted to reach out to her.

That was something strange and he had asked his mother about it. Gethzerion had cackled and patted his knee. "You are falling in love! You sense power in her that manifests itself far beyond the physical beauty. In her is the essence of the Jedi, even I can sense that. Her parentage is powerful!"

Exar Kunn had explained it differently. "It is natural to be attracted to females, especially ones that don't dither on about pointless things. I have sensed this Mara Mothma and know she is a force to be reckoned with. You fear her slightly and it intoxicates you."

Malakie did not care about the reasons, only that he did not like the feeling it left in the pit of his stomach. He had killed many people in his life, but he had never truly cared about anyone. His mother was simply a companion, someone to share his adventures with, but he could not honestly say he loved her. He never knew his father and all of the lovers he had taken while reaching manhood meant no more to him than a pair of shoes. Yet, this Mara had begun to stir something else inside of him.

Passion, he supposed, was being awakened in his cold soul. Even Darth Maul had possessed passion. All Dark Lords had a passion. Darth Vader had been passionate about his wife and now Malakie was being just like him. Was it right to be that way? Hadn't Vader killed his father? But, Exar Kunn reminded him often, that was the nature of the Sith. The strong survive by decimating the weak. The weak slow down a society, they prevent the march into the future by making the strong pace themselves. Better to burn hot and fast then low and slow Malakie thought, using a favorite phrase of the X-Wing pilots.

Speaking of which, he told himself, the morning patrol should have been passing over him. He checked his chronometer and then looked up just as five of the star fighters passed overhead. He reached out with the Force and felt each of the pilot's minds. Tycho was not up there, but that was to be expected. He had already qualified in the use of all of the fighters the Rebels used and was now working with the senior officers on tactics. It would prove to be very useful information in the future he was sure.

Exar Kunn had been very pleased when he had discovered that Malakie was keeping his own spies in the Rebel camp. He explained it was a good exercise in using the Force to stretch one's abilities so. Malakie had taken the compliment in stride, knowing that he had much to learn if he was ever going to get to the level of expertise that his father had achieved.

_You worry too much about your father and not about yourself,_ the disembodied voice of Exar Kunn whispered to him as Malakie stepped off the beaten trail and moved silently through the brush. In this exercise, he had to use the Force to trick the electronic sensors that the Rebels had put out in the forest to warn of any type of sneak attack. _The Sith do not worry about such things!_

"Tell me, Master," Malakie said as he somersaulted over an infrared trip line. "Does that mean Darth Deceptra is weak because of her dedication to her child?"

_Yes! She coddles her son and makes him weak. It is not enough to simply control the Force or to wield a lightsaber, you must have a purpose that better serves the Dark Side. Instead of serving her master, Palpatine, she serves her apprentice! Because of that, she is doomed to failure!_

"What of Palpatine himself? What is his weakness?" Malakie landed and used the Force to call up a small whirlwind to scatter the leaves to remove traces of his passage as he headed down to a small stream.

_Palpatine is blinded by paranoia! He has allowed his confidence, that ability that gave him his position, to degrade into fearfulness. He forgets the Dark Side and puts too much trust in technology!_

"But technology provides us with the tools we require to achieve our goals, does it not?" Malakie patted the lightsaber hilt at his side. It was not yet complete as each component had to be won through a series of tests.

_Technology is nothing compared to the Force, always remember that. Star fighters, blaster and battle stations will come and go, but the Force is infinite. Through it we see the past, the present and the future. In the Dark Side we become one with the order that holds the universe and governs it!_

"Master," Malakie started and then stopped. A large snake was moving through the underbrush, stalking him. It was at least four meters long, more than enough to take on a human. Unfortunately for the reptile, Malakie was far from being human. 

_What is it? Can you not continue a simple telepathic conversation while you deal with this threat? If this is such a challenge, then perhaps I was wrong to select you as an apprentice. Perhaps you would be better suited as a Jedi padawan!_

Malakie was instantly enraged at the very thought of serving as the stable boy for the Jedi order. He knew enough about them that it sickened him to think that such a lifestyle had even been prevalent at one time. The Jedi worshipped weakness and corruption and it was the reason their flame had been blown out in the galaxy.

The snake was not aware that Malakie had guessed its intent, its instincts taking it on a path just off to the side of the dark warrior as he made his way down a second path. Malakie picked up its hunger through the Force; the Rebels had scared off most of the larger mammals and the snake was desperate to find food. To it, Malakie was nothing more than a rather tall primate.

Malakie's mind wandered between paying attention to the snake and his seething anger at Exar Kunn's remarks. He could hear the Dark Lord laughing from his spectral home within the Force. Anger began to turn to white-hot rage and when the snake finally lunged out, fangs bared to deliver the venomous bite, Malakie reacted just as quickly.

His vision changed and he saw the world through the Force, his eyes becoming nothing more than commentary to what his senses were now experiencing. He witnessed the movement of the snake and even witnessed the potential future of where it did bite him, but he also experienced knowledge that told him at least four ways to avoid it.

His movements were a blur, a dance of martial motion as he brought his fist up and energized it with the living Force. The snake, color-blind, could not detect the shimmering blue field that surrounded Malakie's hand. There was a small crack of thunder that shook the immediate area and a spark of light.

Then there was nothing.

Malakie was drenched in sweat and there was a pain in his left temple. His fist was steaming as the blood of the snake boiled away. At his feet lay the squirming, rolling body of the headless creature. The skull of the snake was gone, completely destroyed.

_Excellent! You have taken the first of many steps towards becoming a true warrior of the Sith!_

"What the hell just happened" Malakie asked as he slowly slid to his knees. His hand was now beginning to hurt and he saw that there was a piece of bloody bone sticking out from between two knuckles.

_You have experienced Force-enhancement, a skill used by both the Sith and the Jedi both. By drawing upon your rage, you projected the Force into your fist, transforming it into a weapon of nature! The Sith use this for offensive purposes, the Jedi use it for defensive._

"I didn't feel anything…"

_In time, you will be able to deflect blaster bolts with your palms!_

The young man smiled at that thought. He got back up and pulled the bone shard from his hand, licking the blood. It was very hot, still charged with the Force. As he started to walk again, he pulled off his shirt and wrapped it around his hand. It wasn't so much to stop the bleeding as it was to keep the insects away. He hated insects. On Dathomir, they sometimes were as thick as a fog and only his control over the Force kept them at bay.

His chest heaved as the adrenaline dissipated from his blood and his heart slowed down to its normal rate. He wondered if all Dark Lords experienced such things in battle. The world had seemed so different!

_Now you will begin to understand the battle-lust that once consumed all of the Sith and set them on a path of conquest!_

"Master, why is it that the Sith are now so small in number?" Malakie asked as he began to jog. Despite his battle with the snake, he was not permitted to be late.

_Internal politics and pointless squabbling. Eventually, it, like the corruption that defeated the Jedi, brought down our numbers. After that, it was decided that there must only be two leaders, a Master and an Apprentice._

"Leaders?"

Exar Kunn chuckled. _Many have interpreted this to mean only the Master and Apprentice, but it is impossible for two to administer an empire of order. There must be a clear and defined leadership and that leadership must never be afraid to use whatever means at its disposal to maintain that order._

"Unlike Palpatine, correct Master?" 

_Yes, the Emperor is a failure. It is time he understood what a true Sith is._

Both Malakie and Exar Kunn laughed for several minutes over that comment.


	19. Chapter 18

Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior

By Christopher W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2003 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2003 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.

**CHAPTER 18**

Leia had been very quiet for several days and even Dash was being especially polite to her. The wave through the Force caused by the deaths of the people of Chandrilla had physically affected her and Corran seemed to be extremely upset over the entire event, which Dash found strange. However, it was Quinlan Vos who had been changed the most. His normally pleasant features were darkened by a deep scowl.

Dash knew very little about the Jedi, except for the stories he had heard while growing up. He remembered watching several holodramas as a child, sponsored by the Empire, that portrayed them as thieves and liars, perverts with mind-control powers. After spending several weeks with Quinlan here on Dagobah, his opinion was gradually changing and he was coming to realize the extent that he had been brainwashed by the Empire.

Certainly he never had any love for the interplanetary government, as he was a natural nationalist; he wanted to see a free Corellia. Yet, he never would have imagined just how much his view on life had been shaped by Imperial propaganda. Quinlan Vos was nothing but a gentleman with the far off stare that Dash recognized all too well. Many of the grizzled veterans he sometimes drank with had the same look; the look of someone who had seen too much death and was afraid they were going to see much more.

"You worry about your friends," Quinlan said as he sat down next to Dash. The mercenary was cooking breakfast from his stores on the _Outrider_. This morning's fare was nerf sausage omelets, a welcome change from the terrible tasting gruel that Quinlan normally ate.

"Of course I do; I'm a mercenary, not a devil."

Quinlan nodded. "In the days of the Old Republic, there was not much difference. Had that fine institution lasted…"

Dash interrupted him almost immediately. "Look, maybe everything that was said about you Jedi wasn't the truth, but the Republic was corrupt. Too much leeway was given to the Jedi in government matters."

"You sound like a politician," Quinlan commented and then added quickly, remembering he was speaking to a Corellian, "one of the better ones."

Dash took a fork and rolled the sausage, ensuring it was getting cooked all the way around. Soon it would be time to add the eggs. His stomach was grumbling while they talked. "So, you think the Jedi had too much power?"

Quinlan pulled on one of his thick long braids, a habit he had picked up over the years whenever he was thinking of the old days. "Not so much power, as trust. We became complacent in that trust, forgot what it meant to earn that. The Jedi mediated disputes and enforced laws, but we did not do the things necessary to keep ourselves in the hearts of the people."

"Made it easy for the people to turn against you, eh?"

"Palpatine was saying the things people wanted hear. He preached racial pride, strong defense, law and order." He looked down at the ground and his worn sandals. They reminded him of his heart. The years had not been kind to either. "It sounds good when you first hear it."

"Yep, until you have to pay the bill for all of that security with your soul." Dash heard someone coming down the ramp of his ship and saw it was Corran. Leia was probably out doing her morning run, trying to get out of the "princess mode" as she called it. The physical exercise seemed to keep her mind off of the tragedy of Chandrilla. 

"Hey, Dash," Corran called out, scratching his head. His hair was growing out here on this world of snakes and bogs and swamp gas and it was making him look a little older. Ever since Chandrilla had been destroyed, they all seemed a little older, as if the dreams of innocence died with the planet.

"What? Another headache?" Dash said, handing the fork over to Quinlan. "Don't burn it," he warned.

"Pain killers will not help what ails young Corran," Quinlan responded as he grabbed a sausage and put it in his mouth. Dash guessed he was using the Force to keep it from burning his mouth.

"Really?" Dash asked, halfway hoping the old Jedi had some sort of local cure. Corran had been getting severe headaches for several days now and it had prevented them from leaving. At first, Dash thought it was just an excuse to spend more time with the princess, but he noted the look of real pain on the younger man's face. 

Dash was afraid that it might be a condition related to traveling in hyperspace. In some people, the brain and inner ear could not adjust to faster than light speed. The effect was not always instantaneous, but could build up over years. If it was so, then Corran could stroke out if they left.

"Corran, would you come a little closer, please?" Quinlan called out, gabbing another piece of meat. Dash patted his sidearm and warned the Jedi master a final time. Quinlan shrugged and used the Force to make Dash believe something had moved to his left. As he turned to look, Quinlan grabbed a final link and quickly put it in his mouth.

Dash turned back, fairly sure he had been snookered, but not saying anything because he lacked proof. Corran by that time had made it to their little campsite. "Master Vos?" Corran asked, his manners not having swayed since arriving.

Quinlan closed his eyes and seemed to be mumbling. Dash assumed it was for effect but supposed it was possible the old Jedi was reciting a lesson from his past. Corran dropped to his knees and put a hand to the back of his head. "Ow!"

Dash looked at Corran and then to Quinlan. "That's a great cure, old man."

Quinlan shook his head. "It is as I thought. You have Jedi potential, Corran Horn. Your Force senses have become aware in this environment, yet you do not know how to control them."

"Jedi? There aren't any Corellian Jedi," Dash pointed out. "The last one was killed during the purge."

"True enough, and there never were very many Jedi from your world anyway; must have been something in the water," Quinlan mused. "Nevertheless, Corran could become a Jedi."

Corran kept rubbing the back of his head. "It's incredible. How?"

"The Force does not always reveal itself immediately, but ability is generally hereditary. If I had access to some records, I am sure we could solve the mystery. I assume your father is not a Jedi? No? Then it is a mystery for now." Quinlan turned some of the sausages over and licked his lips. "It seems you now have something else in common with young Leia."

The princess stepped out of the bushes and into the clearing. She was drenched in sweat and wearing nothing but a skimpy athletic top, shorts and weighted combat boots. "Great suns of Tatooine but you stink your worshipfulness," Dash said, pinching his nose.

"It's the smell of work," she commented, sticking her tongue out. "I'm sure you do find it offensive."

Corran stood up and immediately told Leia the news. "Do I have strong ability, Master?"

Dash laughed. "What? Are you now a Jedi in training?"

The other three looked at Corran as if the answer were completely obvious. He shrugged. "Of course, I should have known. All mercenaries should be so lucky as to spend the war baby-sitting Jedi apprentices!" 

"You have the barest minimum of ability to qualify as a Jedi I sense," Quinlan said. "Now that I understand the problem, I think I can train you to control the pain."

"If that is the only thing I learn, I would be most grateful," Corran said with a bow. There was a small smile on his face and Dash guessed that somehow, Garm Bel Iblis knew the truth about Corran all along, as did Hal Horn. They knew the truth about Corran's lineage and it was no accident that Corran was made to come along with Dash.

"You finish breakfast, your lordship," Dash ordered. Leia was about to speak when he held a hand up. "I need to check for any information downloads." Because of the remoteness of Dagobah, they had to rely on periodic signal bounces off of Imperial satellites in neighboring star systems to get any news.

The Jedi had felt Chandrilla before they had heard of it and the last set of reports indicated that an uprising had started in the Corellian system and that the Death Star was moving there. Dash had also managed to download the official Imperial releases on the Death Star, a 120 kilometer wide sphere meant to house several thousand Imperial garrisons. As a side note, it had listed an "asteroid pummeling laser system" as a means of defense. In other words, Palpatine had not wanted to reveal the true nature of his weapon before he used it.

The station, Quinlan had explained after he reviewed the pictures, reminded him of a design that the Trade Federation had reviewed back in the Old Republic. The design had then been bounced around between various factions, but never realized because of the cost involved and the technology required to build it in a feasible amount of time.

Project scientist Bevil Lemilisk had been able to help Tarkin get the station built the information had said, naming Lemilisk as the Chief Imperial Weapons Scientist. Quinlan had mentioned that he had met Tarkin once and said the weapon made sense in that man's hands. "The Emperor had better kill him once that station is fully operational," Quinlan had murmured, indicating Tarkin was a very ambitious man.

Corran ran back into the _Outrider_ and plopped into the pilot's seat. He turned on the communications gear and the signal boosters and just for fun, turned on his passive scanners as well, just to see what was above them. Immediately, he got a return. "What the hell?" he asked as he looked down at the readout.

There was an older model Corellian freighter coming in, heavily modified and jury-rigged by the looks of the power readings. The IFF indicated it was a ship called the _Millennium Falcon_ and the computer listed it as wanted by the Republic security forces for suspicion of harboring Jedi. It was just sitting there in orbit, powered down for the most part except for the weapons systems and that was where Dash was getting the power readings.

The weapons were generating enough juice to light up a ship twice as large and that meant only one thing: smugglers. He didn't know what they would be smuggling way out here, though. Plus, the amount of space the weapons generators would take up would make the vessel absolutely useless for any decent ventures.

It occurred to him that it might be the ship that brought Quinlan Vos here originally. Maybe he had it slaved so it would remain in orbit. But why would he have the weapons systems powered up? Though the weapons were impressive, the freighter was not exactly a good gun platform. It might stop a star fighter or two, but an Imperial cruiser would take it out almost instantly with a turbolaser blast.

Satisfied the ship wasn't moving, Dash got up, forgetting all about the download, and walked back outside where the other three were already eating. As usual, there was very little left for Dash. Quinlan reasoned that if Dash wished to work out with them, he would receive a larger portion. He would just smile and then add a couple of cold ales from his personal stores to his diet. So long as the beer held out, he would be just fine. 

"Hey, why do you keep your ship's weapons powered up?" Dash asked as he picked up the skillet. It was all egg with no sausage.

Quinlan gave him a queer look. "My vessel sank into the mud fifteen years ago. It's probably rusted away by now."

"There's a ship in orbit?" Leia asked.

"Shouldn't Jedi sense that?" Corran asked. He was too interested in learning more about his Jedi abilities to realize the potential danger.

"It is strange," Quinlan said, chewing on his breakfast. "What sort of ship is it?"

"Computer identifies it as the _Millennium Falcon_."

Quinlan started laughing and then gave a few choice curse words. "That damn Ferrin! He's playing games!"

"What's a Ferrin?" Leia asked, not at all amused.

"An old friend. If he's returned, then the Force is gathering its champions," Quinlan said as he stood up. "Dash, I wonder if I might use your communications system to hail the _Falcon_?"

Dash agreed and led the Jedi master inside the ship. Quinlan stopped at the doorway and took in a deep breath. He hadn't stepped foot inside a ship for almost two decades. "It does bring back memories."

"You really miss the old days, don't you?" Dash asked.

"I miss my friends and I miss sharing our experiences in the Force with each other. Solitude is good for the soul, but it is poor for the heart."

"Yeah, hard to get a woman out here," Dash said, looking past Quinlan to down where Leia was performing one-handed push-ups. Corran, now suddenly filled with purpose, was joining her.

"She admires you, but she is fond of Corran," Quinlan told him.

"Like I needed you to tell me that. I don't even like her. Who'd want a young, well-muscled, flexible woman on a planet like this anyway?"

Quinlan nodded. "Exactly! Keep thinking that way, Captain Rendar and soon you will be speaking to the lizards like I do!"

They waited in another clearing not too far from the _Outrider_ and watched as a small speck in the sky grew larger as the _Millennium Falcon_ slowly made its descent. Quinlan had explained that Ferrin had scanned the planet and had not expected to find so many humans here. He had been contemplating exactly what to do when Quinlan had contacted him.

There exchange had been brief, but a happy one. Dash could tell that whoever this Ferrin was, Quinlan had great respect for him. As the ship continued to come down, he gave some brief history. "Ferrin was apprenticed to Master Ovos and was a headstrong young man. The only person I could ever compare him to was Obi-Wan Kenobi."

The other three looked at each other; they had no idea who this Kenobi person was. Quinlan answered the unspoken question. "He was killed many, many years ago by Darth Maul." That was a name they all knew. He was the First Hero of the Empire, followed by Darth Vader. "Ferrin made the mistake of trying to control the mind of Darth Vader and in doing so became tainted by the Dark Side."

"The Dark Side?" Corran asked. He had not participated in Leia's initial lessons so he was unaware of what they were talking about.

"There are always two in nature. Man and woman. Day and night. Light and Dark Side. Two faces of the same Force. The Dark Side is what gives the Sith their power; it feeds of the darker emotions: lust, jealousy, fear and anger. It provides a quick way to power, but it comes with a price. In stead of gradually adapting to the power of the Force, the Sith jump right in and their mortal forms suffer for it."

"Is that why Darth Deceptra has so many mechanical parts?" Leia asked.

Quinlan shrugged his shoulders. "She was a delicate flower of peace; I would assume that with the Dark Side inside of her, it has caused many changes in her."

"You sound sad over it," Dash said as the _Millennium Falcon _came into view. It was in worse shape than Dash had thought. Most of the armor plating was scorched and the paint was all burnt away. There were whole sections of the craft that were simply welded over with plates, as if to plug massive hull breeches.

"I am always sad when I think about a lost life. Padme Amidala could have been many things, yet she chose to follow her heart," Quinlan told them. "That is not always a bad thing, but in this case…"

"She could have chose better," Leia said. "How she could love a monster like Darth Vader I'll never know. How my father could have ever loved her is even more beyond me."

Quinlan regarded her and for a brief moment, he considered letting her know the truth. How would she react to the knowledge that Darth Vader was her father and Darth Deceptra was her mother? Would she completely reject her ancestry, or would she embrace it? People tended to dislike something until they found out it was a part of their make-up.

They were silent as the _Falcon_ landed and they waited patiently as the gangway was lowered. Dash cast an eye on the main guns mounted on the top and bottom of the main section. They were heavy-grade turbo-batteries from Old Republic cruisers. He saw the amplification capacitors as well and mentally added up the joules of energy that the weapons would put out. If his calculations were correct, this ship could put a serious hurt on a star destroyer if it had to.

There was some other equipment mounted on it as well, things he did not recognize. Most of it was around the shield generators, but there were also several small nodes all over the vessel. It looked like a self-destruct device, but he couldn't understand why.

His questions disappeared as two men exited. On was older, wearing a tattered brown robe over military style fatigues in a forest camouflage. His head was shaved bald and Dash guessed that he was Ferrin. The other man, a boy really, was carrying a heavy blaster rifle with arms that bulged muscles that Leia noted with an aye of approval. 

From the boy's haircut, Dash guessed that he was used to wearing it long. Apparently, the older man had wanted to make a good impression. "Where did you learn to shut the Force off like that, old man?" Quinlan asked.

Ferrin took the older man into a bear hug. They laughed and slapped each other on the back. "Quinlan, meet my son, Kyp."

Quinlan extended his hand, but Kyp kept looking out into the jungle, waving the blaster back and forth. "Hey, kid, you want to relax?"

Kyp started to say something when he saw Leia. She was still in the exercise outfit and suddenly felt a little underdressed. There was lust in the boy's eyes. Ferrin cleared his throat and an embarrassed Kyp took a few paces back. "We haven't seen very many human women where we've been, miss; please forgive my son. He doesn't mean anything."

"Where you've been?" Dash asked. "Exactly where do you go that doesn't have any women?"

"Outside the Rim," Ferrin answered. He took another look at Leia. "She looks just like…"

"Yes, well, Princess Leia is a guest, sent by her father Bail Organna. You remember Bail?" Quinlan asked, nudging his friend in the Force.

Ferrin nodded. "Of course. You have my condolences, of course."

Leia frowned at him and Corran instinctively took a step in her direction. "What are you talking about?'

"Your father…by the Force, you don't know?" Ferrin wiped forehead with a cloth. "I hate to be the one to tell you but your father and most of the Royal House of Alderaan was executed by Darth Deceptra just prior to the destruction of Chandrilla. I only know because we've been downloading as much information as we could about the galaxy."

"Damn it," Dash swore as Leia started to break down. Corran was there, wrapping his arms around her, as if he could physically shield her from the darkness that was trying to swallow her up. Even Quinlan had to pause to catch himself lest his anger well up. Bail Organna had been a good friend and trusted ally. His loss to the galaxy could not be measured.

The fact that he was murdered by the woman he had cherished was simply a case of twisted irony. "Perhaps we should give them time?" Ferrin whispered.

Quinlan nodded and went over to say a few words to Leia. He put a hand on her shoulder and she went limp. Corran caught her and heaved her up in his arms. "She'll sleep for several hours, but will need a reassuring face when she awakens," he told Corran.

"Come on, kid, we'll take her to the _Outrider_," Dash commanded. As they were leaving, he turned to Kyp. The boy seemed lost in this world of adults, as if for the first time in his life he didn't know what to do. "Yo, Kyp, you come along too! Let the old men talk for awhile."

Ferrin told his son to go on and when all of them had departed, he turned to Quinlan. "Your wife?" Quinlan asked, wondering where Lyndia was. She and Ferrin had left the galaxy with the intent of meeting up with several other Jedi at the Rim. Lyndia had been previously married to another Jedi, a rare thing in the order but a requirement of her people, and had given birth to a daughter, Mara. 

The same Mara taken in and raised by Mon Mothma. "She's been dead for a few years now," Ferrin lamented. Though they had been separated by at least a decade in age, he had loved his wife very much. Because of her age (her people went through their hormonal changes in their mid thirties), they had not been sure they could have children, but Kyp had been born without complications. "She died valiantly."

"I am sorry," Quinlan offered.

"She died so Kyp and I could escape. Now we have returned." Quinlan asked him about the other Jedi. "There are no more. Kyp and I are the last. If not for the _Falcon_, we would have died."

"How?" Quinlan asked, not able to believe it. "What is out there that is so powerful?"

"About two years past the Rim, we stopped and settled on a planet," Ferrin said as they began to walk. "Within six months we discovered we were not alone. We encountered and advance scouting party for a race of terrible creatures. These were beings we could not sense in the Force, beings that thrive on pain and sadism."

"But you got away," Quinlan added.

Ferrin stopped. "No; we got ahead of them. That's why we came. I hoped that maybe the Jedi had reformed."

"As far as I know of, I am the only one left," Quinlan told him. 

"Then we are doomed."

"Being melodramatic aren't we? The Jedi are survivors…"

"Believe me when I tell you old friend that survival is not all that it's cracked up to be. Sometimes death is better." Ferrin looked up at the dense canopy of the forest. "There is a nightmare coming that makes the Sith look like a blessing. May the Force preserve us because the Vong are coming."


	20. Chapter 19

Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior

By Christopher W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2003 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2003 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.

**CHAPTER 19**

"Emperor Palpatine, what a pleasure to hear from you," Tarkin remarked jovially. The life-sized hologram of the Emperor betrayed nothing, no sign of any emotion but Tarkin could swear he suddenly felt something clod reach around his throat.

"You seem to have elevated your status; I didn't realize that we were so familiar with each other that you do not have to address me by my proper title." The hologram fizzled slightly and went out of focus and Tarkin caught a brief glimpse of a flash of light behind the Emperor. The storms must be raging on Imperial Center he thought.

"My status is something I would like to discuss at another time, my lord," Tarkin said as he checked his fingernails. "I am quite busy right now putting down a rebellion."

The Emperor smiled. "I am sending my apprentice, Darth Deceptra, to take control of the operations. You are to return to Imperial Center."

Tarkin raised a single eyebrow. "Indeed."

He thought for a moment of what he should say next for this was a moment in history. Here he was, standing on the edge of greatness and he couldn't think of anything memorable.

His entire career, all of his dealings and manipulations, had been leading to this moment. From his most humble beginnings as a conservative senator of the Old Republic, Tarkin had believed that only he had the vision and the will to shape the galaxy. By himself, he would never have been able to do it and that was his greatest talent. Tarkin understood how to use any and all resources whether they were battle stations or old withered Sith sorcerers.

The Death Star was his and with it he had enforced his Tarkin Doctrine of rule through fear. The Emperor had tried it, but he could only kill one person at a time. Tarkin could lay waste to entire star systems. 

With the exception of the 181st TIE Interceptor Squadron under the command of Baron Fel, Tarkin had managed to staff the Death Star with officers whose loyalty was to him and him alone. The star fleet outside on picket duty in the rebellious Corellian system was also handpicked. In effect, Tarkin had his own military and his own portable planet.

"I sense a change in you, Tarkin, and I have to say I do not think it is a change for the better," the Emperor said, his tone low and ominous. The effect was lost on Tarkin who was slowly becoming drunk on his own power. "I demand that you release Baron Fel immediately."

"No."

"You dare to defy me?" the Emperor spat out. His eyes bulged out as he sought to control his temper. Tarkin could have sworn some of the objects on his desk were starting to shake.

"I dare more than that," Tarkin told him as he stood up. He stepped up to the hologram and put his hands behind his back, preparing to lecture his former superior. "Like the Old Republic and the Jedi before you, you have become complacent in your power. You are not fit to rule in my opinion. You know nothing of military matters, you consult astrologers and spoon-benders; you are a shriveled fruit, a husk of the man you once were."

"And you are an arrogant fool if you think that technological terror you have under your command can surpass the power of the Force," the Emperor reminded him. "You have forgotten that my loyal apprentice is onboard; the Emperor's Fist is mine to command."

"The boy? You allowed him to be trained by your half-human whore. I remember Darth Maul, Palpatine, and Luke Skywalker fails to meet the comparison." Tarkin threw his head back and started laughing. "You have no apprentice; you have a snot-nosed Jedi padawan! He will be dead within the hour, I assure you. After that, I intend to deal with this small rebellion and then…"

"Then what, Tarkin? Tell me, how will you chose to die?" the Emperor asked.

"Oh, no, I doubt very much I'm going to die, but if I were you, I wouldn't be making any long term plans."

The Emperor laughed this time. "You are about to find out what pain is, Governor Tarkin…"

Tarkin cut the transmission off and harrumphed. His top aide cleared his throat and wiped his sweating brow with a cloth. "I suppose the die is cast," the aide said.

The lord of the Death Star smiled at the irony. His aide had something to say to mark the occasion. An intelligent man, he had been selected because he not only knew his place, but he wasn't afraid to speak his mind. Tarkin could always find someone to agree with him, but it was hard to find people who would be honest. "You have something to say, Colonel Madine?"

The officer scratched his red beard, a rare commodity in the Imperial military. "The Emperor will immediately send for the Outer Regions Fleet to protect Imperial Center."

Tarkin nodded and moved over to a giant viewscreen and pressed a button. A two-dimensional representation of the galaxy came up with the various major Imperial fleets highlighted. "With the destruction of Chandrilla in the same quadrant as Imperial Center, the only military corridor open is through Yaga Minor."

"We can beat Thrawn to Imperial Center, but…"

"We leave Corellia in open rebellion. Garm Bel Iblis could start to fortify the entire system." Tarkin rubbed his chin, considering his options and at the same time, trying to decide the best way to announce his plans to his loyal forces. "The there are the smaller fleets."

"True. Time will tell which side they will take. If enough of them pledge loyalty to you then there will be no need to leave Corellia without an occupying force." Colonel Madine then walked over and tapped the planet marked Endor. "The second battle station based on the Death Star design is being fabricated here. We can't forget that."

Tarkin had hoped for a little more time, but with Darth Deceptra on her way, he needed to act fast. "You secure the Endor facility," Tarkin said finally.

Madine looked genuinely shocked. "Me? What about Admiral Zaarin?" The Admiral was currently heading up the Imperial star fighter corps and was on detached assignment to Seinar Fleet Systems, the creators of the TIE fighter. "He would garner more respect."

"Because of your rank? I'm promoting you to general," Tarkin responded. "No, Zaarin is too self-absorbed in his pet projects. He won't care who is in charge so long as he gets to play with his toys." Another aide entered and immediately moved over to the hologram controls to set it up for general broadcast. 

As the aide started the system up, the Emperor's image appeared again. This time, however, he wasn't addressing Tarkin."…Announce that Grand Moff Tarkin has taken illegal control of the Corellian system. He is acting without my authority and is therefore in rebellion against the government. I declare that Governor Tarkin and any officers loyal to him are to be executed on sight and direct all loyal Imperial forces to resist and pursue these traitors with all due haste."

The message started over again and the aide shrugged. "It will take some time to slice into the signal."

Tarkin told him to carry on; the address would have to wait. "Governor, about Luke Skywalker?" Madine asked.

"There's been no word of his escape from the detention area?"

"No, sir; he, Solo and Fel are still in their cells." Madine paused for a moment. "There is no proof that Fel sent any word of our attack on Chandrilla to Corellia. More than likely, there are Rebel agents intermingled with our own forces."

"Nothing we can do about that now and it doesn't matter," Tarkin said as he sat back down at his desk. He opened a drawer and pulled out a small blaster and gun belt. He would have to be armed now because you never knew if the Emperor's Crimson Guardsmen had an assassin waiting around the corner. "The idea was to get the 181st locked up or dead."

"Most of them are dead with the exception of a few techs who had no love for Fel," Madine responded. He turned to once again regard the map. "I'm still concerned about Harkov."

Tarkin agreed. Admiral Harkov was an ambitious man who had never been particularly fond of Tarkin. He was a problem because the very first of the Super-Class star destroyers, the _Executor,_ had been placed under his command. The Death Star was powerful and nearly indestructible, but the _Executor_ could be a powerful weapon in its own right. "He's still out over the Mon Calamari system," Tarkin said. 

Tarkin had tried to win Harkov over to his side even going so far as to assign his personal valet, a Mon Calamarian named Ackbar, while Harkov maintained a presence over the servant's home world. Ackbar had been Tarkin's favorite slave. "I think he'll side with Palpatine," Madine said.

Snorting, Tarkin disagreed. "I wouldn't be surprised if Harkov joined up with Garm Bel Iblis!" He stood up and put on the pistol belt. "We'll deal with it later. Right now I want you to take the Fifth Fleet to Endor. I'm sure that the remaining forces of the 2nd Fleet can handle this Wedge Antilles and his rabble-rousers." He reached down and pressed a blue button. A voice answered back that they were the officer in charge of the detention area where the members of the 181st were being held.

"Execute all of the prisoners immediately," Tarkin ordered. He cut the communication and turned to Madine. "At least one problem is solved."

The officer in charge straightened up and swallowed slowly. He knew who the prisoners were in his area and he was not comfortable at all with his duty. He looked at the naval troopers standing guard and they were shaking in their gray uniforms. None of them expected anything like this when they joined the Imperial navy.

Being assigned to the Death Star, which was actually a separate branch of the military, made you part of the elite. Even the lowest member of the Death Star command structure was a hero in the eyes of the military. But heroes weren't supposed to execute other heroes, were they?

Everyone knew Baron Fel; everyone knew Luke Skywalker. Han Solo was even known on the Death Star, though more for his sabbac playing than anything else. These were the kind of people enlisted and officers were trained to emulate. The officer straightened his uniform and pulled out his own pistol. 

He was also trained to follow orders without question and he had long ago thrown his lot in with Tarkin. "You heard the governor," he ordered the troopers.

The two young men looked at each other. They had thrown their lot in with whoever was over them. Enlisted ranks were not trained to think but simply to do. They hesitated for a moment and the officer waved his own weapon in their direction. Both understood the meaning and they pulled out their blasters and set the charges to full.


	21. Chapter 20

Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior

By Christopher W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2003 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2003 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.

**CHAPTER 20**

Artoo-Deetoo sat in the private quarters of his master plugged into a power socket and running on low charge. It had been several days since the stormtroopers had come for his master and Han Solo and the loyal droid remembered the command Luke had given him. "Execute Alpha Twelve."

The code-phrase automatically activated several subroutines in the astromech droid's primary programming. Luke Skywalker, like his father before him, loved to tinker with droids and other mechanicals. A big difference between the two of them was Luke seemed to have a passion for machine code and often spent his free hours reprogramming the droid to perform functions that went beyond his original programming.

Whatever his original purpose had been had long ago been deleted from the droid's brain. Between Anakin and Luke both, they had completely transformed the droid. Artoo was, besides Darth Deceptra, Luke's only real link to his father, a man of such greatness that even the Emperor spoke of him in respectful tones. 

Artoo was now passively drawing power and sending a secret signal back through the connection that tapped him into the communications system. He was able to monitor and filter all message traffic for the Death Star, downloading information based upon a series of parameters that Luke had set. A message sent by governor Tarkin only minutes before had activated many more subroutines in the droid and while it looked like he was only sitting there in the dark, he was actually performing hundreds of very small tasks.

Most of the tasks were distractions meant to keep Tarkin's agents from guessing what was going on. By the time the Imperial programmers figured out what was going on, Artoo would be unplugged and gone.

"They're coming," Luke said as he checked his fingernails. Han turned and regarded him with a wry smile.

"Is it lunchtime already?" he asked. They were housed in the general holding cell and had been treated fairly well for the duration. They had been imprisoned for "safety reasons" as the Imperial Intelligence officer had said. Luke had immediately wanted to kill all of them for daring to even to presume to arrest him, but Han had held him back, reminding him that Tarkin was still the boss of the Death Star.

All of that had changed after Luke had picked up the Emperor's message on the holoviewer. "I can sense the apprehension in their minds. They've been ordered to execute us."

"Probably just you; I'm getting killed by association," Han replied. He blew out and ran a hand threw his close-cropped hair. "I guess we really need to get out of here."

"Let them come," Luke said coldly. "I'm tired of playing games with Tarkin. I'm going to kill him."

"Maybe," Han said, his eyes darting to the door. "We need to find the commander."

Luke nodded his head. "Agreed. He might be an arrogant ass who wants to sleep with my mother, but at least he's loyal."

"Are all of you dark Jedi so cheery?" Han asked. Luke gave him a dour look and then hopped down off of his bunk. "Do you need help?" he asked.

Luke laughed. "Please. This is nothing."

They stood there, both of them, not moving as the seconds ticked by. Han had to admit he was just a little nervous. He didn't understand the Force and he couldn't explain how his younger friend could do the things he could. Jedi just weren't the kind of thing an orphan from Corellia learned about on the mean streets.

Luke, on the other hand, was bored and had been since they were put in this cell. From the first moment he wanted to kill everyone and had even entertained the idea of choking Han in his sleep. The other pilot could not possibly know that the nightmares he was having night after night were the result of Luke's tampering. His control over the Dark Side was growing every day.

The experience's Luke had logged over the past few months, ever since he had left Imperial Center, he allowed him to become more in tune with the Force. He was starting to experience the visions of the future that his mother had told him would occur. He was healing from injuries more quickly, but not nearly as quickly as his mother who could have limb replacement surgery and walk out hours later.

His musings stopped as the energy fields dampened around the door, indicating that the electronic locks were about to be disengaged. The time was about right for the afternoon meal but Luke could not believe that they would try so ignorant a deception. He touched the three minds approaching through the Force and found them to be lacking in everything, especially individuality. They were perfect examples of Imperial military training.

Tarkin must have assumed that Luke was nothing more than an ignorant Sith brat raised in opulence on Imperial Center. He focused his contempt; he needed no anger to handle these nerf-herders.

The door opened and the two naval troopers stepped in. Before their shiny boots touched the deck plating in the cell, Luke had them. Their wills melted away and they became simply an extension of his own mind. Both troopers turned and fired at their supervisor, burning away large chunks of flesh and dropping the detention area commander immediately.

Luke then had the troopers fire on each other. The air smelled like burnt meat and Han had to hold his nose. "That's great, kid; you couldn't just put them to sleep could you?"

"You complain too much," Luke snapped. "I just saved your life." Han noted that Luke didn't bother to mention that he saved his own skin as well.

"And you forgot about the ionization sensors that are mounted throughout the Death Star. They'll pick up the blasters that were fired into the corridor." Han stepped over the two troopers and pointed to several nodes in the overhead. "Stormtroopers will be here soon. You should have waited until they were all in the cell or just made them go to sleep!"

Luke's face reddened but Han didn't back down. He had been Luke's friend for a long time and understood the emotional changes that could suddenly come over him. "We have to find the commander…now!"

"My duty is to the Emperor!"

Han put a finger up and started to speak when alarm klaxons went off. At the far end of the corridor, a stormtrooper appeared and started firing. Deadly bolts of energy raced past Han's head and he dove for the deck plating next to the dead officer. Grabbing the man's blaster, he started returning fire. "Grab a blaster, kid!" he yelled.

Luke nodded, his anger replaced by the necessity of combat and he put himself into fighting mode. He held his hand out and one of the trooper's dropped weapons flew to his hand. Han had backed into a small recess and was using it for cover while Luke waited in the doorway.

The stormtrooper was soon joined by several others and some regular naval forces. The amount of laser blasts was increasing greatly and Luke could sense that the Imperial forces were getting ready to try an assault on their position. "Han! They're going to make a push!"

"Can't you stop them?" Han asked sarcastically as he popped out to take a shot. A stormtrooper went down as his blast helmet exploded.

Luke was ashamed to admit his weakness. "They're too into the fight! Single-minded purpose is hard to break through!"

"Well, you're a lot of help!" Han duck a near hit but got splattered by molten metal as the blast ate through the support beam he was hiding behind. His skin was burned along his hand but he was otherwise fine for the moment. "We need to pull back and get to the Baron before they do!'

Luke nodded and reached out, sending his will down the corridor as far away from the advancing stormtroopers as he could get. He smiled. "They haven't tried flanking us yet!"

"We need a diversion!"

Luke used the Force to grab the bodies of the two troopers and flung them at the stormtroopers. The white-armored soldiers fired desperately at the corpses, shocked and sickened at the same time as their bolts blew the bodies into flaming masses of flesh. Han didn't have to tell Luke twice and the two pilots ran down the passage past the other detention cells. 

They knew that Baron Fel was being held in the very last cell, the one closest to the interrogator droid station. Han looked at the lock and fired his blaster at it. Reaching two fingers into the hole he had made, he pulled out several wires. "I'll have to hotwire it!"

Luke rolled his eyes. "Get the hell out of my way!" He pushed Han aside and put his hands up against the door. He closed his eyes and began to push and the metal started to give a little. Luke did not hurry even though Han could see two stormtroopers moving up to a defensive position.

"Kid…"

Luke threw him a curse and continued pushing against the door. It creaked as it was stressed beyond what it was designed for. Hydraulic locks, hidden somewhere in the walls, could be heard snapping and Luke pushed the door all of the way open.

Baron Fel sat on his bunk, one eye swollen shut and dried blood all over his uniform. It was obvious he had not eaten or washed in the days he had been imprisoned and even Luke felt a little guilty about the relative comfort he and Han had been enjoying while under arrest.

Fel smiled a toothless grin. "Thought I heard you knocking."

Han fired and took down a stormtrooper that had tried to get too close. "Luke! We're gonna have company!"

The young Sith ran over and holstered his weapon before helping Fel off of the bunk. "You guys got a plan?" Fel asked.

"He's the brains, sweetheart," Han called as another trooper went down. "He seems to have everything under control."

Luke smiled. "Artoo should be prepping a shuttle for us right now. We have to get to our hanger bay."

"Shouldn't be too hard!" Han called, firing one more time. His aim was slightly off from the burning sensation on his hand and he only winged a particularly agile trooper. "Let's go!" he griped.

Luke carried Fel out of the cell and let Han provide covering fire as they exited out the maintenance door for the droid station. They looked around and were relieved to see that the station wasn't on general alert. "They thought I had radioed a message to Garm Bel Iblis about Chandrilla," Fel said. He was breathing hard and by the way he winced, Luke guessed he had some broken ribs.

The men under Tarkin's command had been thorough in their beating, but they apparently were either too dumb to realize that Fel was telling the truth or too stupid to pick up on his lies. Luke believed that Fel was loyal to the Empire; that was the only reason why he was being saved.

"There is an organized resistance on Corellia under the leadership of Wedge Antilles," Fel told them as they stopped next to an office door. Luke used the Force to unlock it and they stumbled in. Han shot the man behind the desk. 

"We can't stay here," Han told them.

Luke set Fel down in a chair and went over to the computer terminal. "I just need to check something," he said as he typed in a few commands. He smiled at them. "We've got a _Lambda_-class shuttle waiting!"

"What about the station tractor beams?" Han asked. "A shuttle isn't fast enough to outrun those!"

"Use the planet," Fel said, seeming to get some of his strength back. "The Death Star is in orbit over Corellia right now; the gravitational pull of the planet disrupts the targeting lock. Thrawn told me about it; Tarkin thought it was a load of bantha poo!"

"Then what? Wait for the Rebels to kill us instead of Tarkin?" Luke shook his head. "I don't like this plan at all."

"The Rebels won't bother us."

"Right," Han laughed, agreeing with Luke. "They might leave me alone, but you're a Hero of the Empire and Luke's the Emperor's Fist!"

"Wedge Antilles is my brother-in-law," Fel told them as he started to stand up. "I didn't know he was mixed up in the Rebellion until Tarkin's people told me." He saw the disbelieving look on Luke's face. "You can read my mind, so do it!"

Luke did and he wasn't gentle at all about it. Fel went to his knees but kept his face firm. Luke's face twisted in disgust but in the end, he found that his commander was telling the truth. "I can't agree to it myself; I have a higher calling to attend to."

"Not this stuff about going to kill Tarkin," Han groused. "Kid…"

"No, I'm returning to Imperial Center to make sure that none of Tarkin's assassins have harmed our leader." He double-checked the readings on the monitor. "The two of you should go down on the planet and see about obtaining any intelligence you can."

"We're too well known," Han argued. 

Fel shook his head. "The Emperor's Fist is correct." Luke brightened slightly. "You have some natural leadership ability, Flight Officer, but you seem to be forgetting your chain of command."

Luke understood and apologized. The Emperor had him join the military for a specific reason and that was to learn how to take orders. "You cannot give until you receive," the Emperor had said.

"I only meant…"

Fel held up a hand and slowly went over to sit on the desk. His breathing was a little more regular now that he was moving about. "The entire planet could not have turned. There has to be some Imperial resistance and maybe an appearance by a Hero of the Empire might help."

"What about Antilles?" Han asked as he checked the charge on his blaster.

"Garm Bel Iblis has warped the minds of our people, Han. They don't remember what it was like under the Old Republic. They've gotten complacent and they need to be steered back to the side of Order." He stood again on shaky knees. "Corellia cannot survive on its own."

Han nodded agreement and began to holster his blaster when the door burst open. The stormtrooper that Han had winged opened fire and Han went down immediately. Luke was quick to return fire and three shots took the stormtrooper out for the final count. 

Both Luke and Fel looked down at the steaming hole in Han's chest; his usually cocky features subdued in death. There was no time to mourn. "Baron, we have to go."

"Another Corellian killed by Tarkin's treachery," Fel murmured. It was men like Tarkin, those who usurped the natural order that gave fuel to the fire of Rebellion. Bel Iblis had been a fellow senator with Palpatine and had seen first-hand the nightmare that had been created by 25,000 years of Republic rule. Tarkin was akin to the terrorist member states of that once-august body and Bel Iblis could almost be forgiven for what he was doing.

They made it to the hanger bay an hour later, mostly by using Luke's Force abilities to make people forget them or, as in one case, have them go blind. By the time they were walking across the deserted hanger deck, as all of the other members of the 181st were gone, Luke was breathing harder than Fel. His abilities were being taxed to the limit and in the back of his mind he kept hearing the echoing call of the Emperor.

Luke struggled with the desire to simply get his lightsaber from Artoo and go back charging into the Death Star to hunt down Tarkin. Fel, though impressed with Luke's devotion to the Emperor, still felt compelled to talk him out of it. "You had a sound plan before; stick to it. I'll do what I can to stir up trouble on Corellia, you just make sure you send the reinforcements I need!"

"I'm not running out on you," Luke said. Fel was surprised by the admission but then reasoned that with Han gone, Fel was the closest thing Luke had to a friend. He had expected Luke to show more grief, but instead it only seemed to feed his burning hatred of Tarkin.

The problem was that Fel got the impression that Luke was more upset at losing someone he could control more than he was about losing a friend. "I know, but all of this is for nothing if something happens to the Emperor."

"Aren't you afraid that Tarkin will destroy the planet?"

"And make this system uninhabitable? Destroy Corellia and the other planets of the system will die as well. Gravitational distortions will disrupt trade routes; garrisons could get dangerously low on food and ammunition. Fleets will have a shortage of spare parts." Fel shook his head and climbed into the shuttle.

Artoo was already in the cockpit and had the engines set for quick start-up. "That one hell of a droid you got there."

Luke patted Artoo on the head and took his spot in the pilot's chair. "He was my father's." There was obvious pride on Luke's face when he spoke of the deceased Darth Vader.

"He had good taste," Fel said as he buckled in.

"I had Artoo route all maintenance personnel around this area and even arranged to have the containment field tied into the main computer for this hanger bay." Luke chuckled. "I'm also going to drop the defensive shields for the Death Star for about three seconds. I'm sure Tarkin's boys will have a fun time trying to figure that one out."

The shuttle unfolded its ventral wings and Luke activated the repulsor lifts. True to his word, the craft sailed out of the containment field without incident from a hanger bay that should have been teaming with maintenance activity. Luke's ability to gain control of an impossible situation was very impressive.

Luke smiled as he picked up the thought. "Yes, it is, isn't it?" He scratched his head and then hit the engines, racing towards the planet below. Just as Thrawn had predicted, the tractor beams could not get a lock on them and several warnings of imprisonment and death came over the speaker. 

Luke traded insults with person on the other end and then announced he would use the Force to drop the outer defensive shields. When they went down, there was stunned silence on the line.

Luke cut the communication, dodged a passing TIE fighter that then slammed into the shields as they suddenly reappeared and raced away to freedom.


	22. Chapter 21

Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior

By Christopher W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2003 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2003 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.

**CHAPTER 21**

Chewbacca sniffed the air as Malakie walked by and could almost swear he sensed something evil in the man's scent. True, the man had done nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that should cast suspicion upon his character, but Chewbacca had not become a famed hunter by just looking at the obvious. Chewbacca understood that there was a layer to everything that could not been seen, but only felt.

Many called it the Force; the equivalent word in Wookie was unpronounceable by humans, though Mara made a pretty good try at it. Perhaps all Chewbacca was feeling was jealousy; over the past few weeks he had grown quite fond of her. Mon Mothma had been the one to free Chewbacca from Imperial slavery, but it was Mara who had become his friend.

Malakie turned his head slightly back towards Chewbacca as he walked into the cafeteria and the Wookie could have sworn he saw a smile on the man's face. He wasn't even sure if Malakie was human at all. Both he and Talon Karde had spent many hours searching through databases compiled during the days of the Old Republic, trying to see of they could classify Malakie's species.

Malakie moved through the crowd of rebel soldiers, pilots and technicians to sit down next to Mara. The big Wookie slowly made his way in and took up a position that gave him a clear line of sight with his bowcaster. Mara was becoming too interested in Malakie and her friends were not happy about it. For Chewbacca, Malakie represented an unknown quantity and as head of security for Mara, he had grown not to trust anyone he couldn't read. Malakie's yellow eyes seemed to mock the Wookie every time he beheld them.

Talon Karde, on the other hand, saw Malakie as a competitor for Mara's affections. Chewbacca understood such motivations and he pitied Karde because the smuggler simply did not stir in Mara the emotions required to produce a successful mating. Chewbacca could feel the way the air heated up when she and Malakie were together. They were two of a kind, he suspected, and it brought him some joy when he saw her face light up whenever Malakie came near.

Chewbacca did not understand fully human mating rituals but he had observed over time that unlike Wookie females, human females were less impressed with feats of masculinity than they were with simple openness. When Mara and her suitor were together, it seemed as if they could talk about anything, as if they had a connection beyond the physical and verbal. It was a connection that Talon Karde could not hope to achieve.

"I don't trust him," Karde said as he came up next to Chewbacca. He held a small piece of fruit in his hand but made not move to eat it. Chewbacca thought it more likely that Karde used getting the fruit as an excuse to come walking into the room.

Chewbacca responded with grunts and growls of his language. Karde had a firm grasp of understanding Wookie, but his pronunciation was terrible. Karde listened to Chewbacca and nodded his head. "Yes, I'd like to know exactly what it is he's doing out in the forest as well. Did you know that once he's 100 meters outside the base perimeter, none of our sensors can detect him?"

Chewbacca asked if it were possible that Malakie was some sort of droid. "It is possible," Karde said as he rubbed his goatee. That thought had not crossed his mind. "I understand that Xizor has some stakes in some companies that produce the very best in Life Model Decoys." Chewbacca said that Malakie might be a plant from Black Sun to monitor Xizor's investment in the Rebellion.

"He's too human in my opinion; don't you sense something from him? It's not mechanical, but then I never was the expert on droid design." Chewbacca joked that he could tear Malakie open to see if he really were an artificial being. Karde smiled grimly. "You would not get any objections from me."

Karde watched as Mara laughed at something Malakie whispered into her ear and he felt the pangs of jealousy begin to rise up from the pit of his stomach. Chandrilla had been destroyed and the only thing that made Mara smile was this unidentified alien with the crazy mother. Karde wanted to be the one who made Mara happy and he had been well on the way to that position before Malakie had arrived.

He decided that the alien was up to something and he hoped it was related to something that would get Malakie shot. "The next time he goes into the woods, follow him. I'll assign some of my own people to watch Mara. Get the evidence we need to get rid of him."

Chewbacca responded by saying affairs of the heart had no place in the Rebellion. "Then look at it this way, he very well may be an Imperial spy. If he's doing nothing out of the ordinary in the jungle, then I really won't have any evidence to use against him, shall I?"

Chewbacca considered the logic and finally agreed. He would follow Malakie and discover the man's secrets.

"I can't stay here," Leia said as she emerged from the jungle. Corran came out behind her, though not quite as winded. His time with CorSec had given him a body required for surviving Quinlan Vos's exercise regime. The older Jedi was amused by the challenge Corran represented and when he wasn't engaged in heated discussions with Ferrin or Dash, he was coming up with new calisthenics for his young padawans.

Though Corran had agreed to be trained, to hone his meager Force ability and perhaps increase it if he could, Ferrin had not been pleased. He and Quinlan had argued and shouted about "one master, one apprentice". Ferrin believed that Quinlan lacked the ability to properly train two Jedi and offered to take one of them off his hands.

Quinlan had pointed out Kyp was Ferrin's apprentice, but Ferrin had shook his head. "I can't teach him very much more than what I have. Were there still Jedi trials, he would be ready for them."

Dash had laughed at the whole thing. "There's a battle station out there blowing up planets and you guys are worried about procedure! No wonder the Emperor was able to destroy your order!"

It had been a sobering observation and it finally led to Leia and Corran spending more time together. Their attraction was growing, especially given their close proximity during heavy physical exercise. "Do you want to go down by the spring?" Corran asked, a twinkle in his eye. It was there that they had held hands. Nothing more than that but it had been the springboard for what they were sure would eventually follow.

"No. I mean I can't stay on Dagobah anymore. Deceptra killed my father and slaughtered the members of the royal family. I have an obligation to my home world," she said as she plopped down on a rock. A snake went by her feet but she ignored it, a major change from the way she originally had felt about reptiles.

"That sounds like a need for revenge; Master Vos said that it was a sure-fire way to the Dark Side." Corran took a seat on a rock a few meters away. "You're too important to the galaxy as a whole. We need the Jedi."

"What good is a Jedi that can't meet their obligations?" she asked. "I am a member of the royal house; I can't just ignore that."

"Master Vos said that sometimes Jedi have to do that to serve the Force."

She laughed. "The Force? Where was the Force when my father was killed? Where was the Force when my mother was murdered along with the rest of Chandrilla? Hell, I don't even know if my sister is still alive."

"Mara? I didn't think you were close…"

Kyp fell out of the woods and into the clearing. He was covered in scratches and scrapes, but that wasn't unusual. Kyp's abilities were far more developed and he tended to take his runs through the treetops. He looked at the tow of them and smiled. The three had started becoming fast friends and Kyp seemed to have gotten over his initial crush on Leia.

The truth was that Kyp simply buried his feelings deep. "Did you say 'Mara'? Do you know a Jedi named Mara?"

"She's not a Jedi, she's my sister," Leia responded. 

"Oh," Kyp said, getting up. He did it in a way that allowed him to get a good look at Leia's legs as she rubbed her calves. It was frustrating because for the first time in his life he was having to deal with feelings and desires that he had never before experienced.

By the time he had become a teenager, all of the human females of their colony had been taken by the Vong and transformed into slaves. He never even saw another human female until the _Millennium Falcon_ had reentered the galaxy of his father's birth. In his mind, he saw himself using the Force to dominate Leia, bending her to his will. The thoughts both scared and excited him, yet he was too embarrassed to inform his father about them.

"Why?" Corran asked, forcing his way into the conversation.

"I have a half-sister named Mara," Kyp relied as he stood and started stretching. For someone so young, he was incredibly well developed and even Leia had to admit that physically, he was impressive. There was a darkness that surrounded Kyp as well; borne of the horrible lifestyle he had been forced to live for so long. "She was born before me, before my parents left the galaxy."

"What happened to her?"

"My mother would never talk about her and any time I mentioned her, she would cry. My father would just tell me she was safe." Kyp popped his neck and then reached down for his lightsaber. Both Leia and Corran noticed that Kyp had a tendency to keep his hand on the hilt. 

"You use that thing often?" Corran asked.

Kyp nodded. "More than a Jedi should have to." He wouldn't say anymore and the three were quiet for a while longer. 

Leia looked to Kyp. "What do you think of my wanting to leave?"

The young Jedi look puzzled; he wasn't used to someone asking for his opinion. "I don't know. You're not trained as a Jedi, neither of you. I believe my father when he says that the galaxy will need as many Jedi as possible in the coming years."

"I'm going to talk with Master Vos," Leia said, standing up. She turned and started marching towards the main camp and Corran hurried to catch up with her. Kyp followed behind, watching Leia walk, enjoying the sway of her hips. He didn't understand these sudden new emotions and because they wouldn't stop, it was making him angry.

He knew that his anger would only lead to trouble but he had no way to control it, no positive outlet. Swinging from branches and dropping several meters to the ground was fun, but it did nothing to extinguish the fire burning inside of him. A fire that he was sure only by having Leia could it be put out.

"Fine," Quinlan said when Leia presented her request.

Ferrin nodded. "Yes."

Corran looked at them and then back to the smiling Leia. Dash was leaning against a landing strut for the _Outrider_, shaking his head. "Just like that, you're going to let her go?"

"She does have an obligation to the people of Alderaan to at least make an appearance," Quinlan explained. Corran countered that Deceptra would pounce on the opportunity to capture Leia because her abilities had to be known to the Emperor's apprentice. "And the Jedi owe a debt to Alderaan that we can never hope to repay."

"Besides, she isn't going alone," Ferrin said. He put a hand on Kyp's shoulder. "Kyp and I will take her."

Dash straightened up. "That's not very sane. Deceptra will tear you guys new ones."

Ferrin only smiled. "I'm sure Kyp and I can handle ourselves just fine."

Corran saw that Dash was not convinced and he started to realize what the true difference between Quinlan and Ferrin was. They were masters of two different philosophies. Quinlan was the pacifist and preferred being subtle; Ferrin was a Jedi warrior who wanted to end the threat of Darth Deceptra once and for all. Deceptra was one of the things blocking the way for a new age of the Jedi, and Ferrin meant to remove her.

"Does that mean Leia is now your apprentice?" Corran asked.

"No," Ferrin replied, shaking his head. "Though I disagree with Master Vos, which I have always had the tendency to do, this is merely a mission. My son and I will protect Princess Leia as she returns to Alderaan to set the government in order."

"A line of succession has to be determined or else Alderaan will fall into chaos. There are too many wealthy families that want to rule," Leia explained. 

Corran was not convinced. He wanted to pull Leia away and talk to her about what was really on her mind, but it wasn't his place. Dash seemed to sense what Corran was thinking and slowly shook his head. "Then my mission is done here, too," Dash said finally, trying to ease the tension in the air.

"Where will you go?" Corran asked and from the tone of his question, Dash guessed the younger man was not going with him. Corran had decided his future; he was going to become part of the new Jedi order. A strange choice for a Corellian to be sure.

"Corellia is under blockade and I don't know where Garm Bel Iblis is hiding at now…I guess I'll head back to Tatooine and see what comes up," Dash said in a resigned voice.

"You spoke of a friend…"

Dash smiled and almost smacked his head. "Lando! Thanks, Quinlan! I'll go to Bespin, see what's shaking there, maybe I can find out where a Rebel cell is at!" Dash hurried back into his ship to start the pre-flight check out. It had been several months since the _Outrider_ had been in space and it would take a good full day to go over her completely. 

"Then it is decided," Quinlan announced. "The future is open to us and some of must journey down a path of danger. I wish you well my friends; hurry where you go and be twice as fast on your return."

"We will come back," Leia promised. She looked at Corran and could tell his heart was breaking very slowly, as was hers. In the Force, they could touch each other on a level beyond emotional and she tried to pour reasoning and justification into what she was doing.

What she received back was disbelief and worry. He wanted to go with her but knew he couldn't; it wasn't in the mission plan. Then something else slipped out from his mind.

She smiled despite herself and Corran blushed as he realized that he had communicated too much through the contact. Leia wanted to go over and kiss him, but not here and not now. She did manage to send a small tendril into his brain, giving him a picture of her feelings.

Corran had to turn his head and he made some excuse to go help Dash. He couldn't bear to watch her leave and she couldn't bear to say good-bye. Sometime during their weeks of being together, talking over everything from security matters to politics, walking hand in hand next to a jungle spring, the two young Jedi apprentices had fallen in love.


	23. Chapter 22

Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior

By Christopher W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2003 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2003 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.

**CHAPTER 22**

The Imperial-Class star destroyer _Avenger_ came out of hyperspace and immediately fired up the sub-light engines. The journey to the next jump point would take approximately one hour, but it would shave days off of the trip to the Corellian system by using an old smuggler's route. 

Captain Piett nodded to the navigation officer after receiving a report that everything was going according to schedule and returned to gazing out the main viewport. He was one of the few officers that Deceptra trusted as he had served under Lord Vader when he was younger and had remained a loyal ally during the years. Having her watch over his career had provided him with many career-enhancing assignments, including this one, commanding the flagship of the Death Squadron, Deceptra's personal fleet.

He had hoped that the _Executor_ would have been given over, but Deceptra had declined it, instead opting for a fleet made up of smaller, more diversified ships. It did give the Death Squadron the ability to perform a variety of missions, but that didn't mean the captain was happy about losing out on commanding a Super-Class capital ship.

The rest of the fleet would be coming out of hyperspace at different intervals, following the same path. The sensor officer called out that the _Devastator _and _Dark Shadow_, another star destroyer and a new interdictor cruiser respectively, had just finished their jump and were now following along their course. The entire Squadron would meet at the edge of the Corellian system and would see what the true situation was.

Intercepted comms traffic indicated that both the Emperor and Tarkin's speeches had deeply divided the Empire. Many worlds clung to the idea that only the Emperor, seemingly immortal, could maintain the New Order. Other, younger commanders believed that it was time for a change. These officers agreed with Tarkin's heavy-handed tactics and welcomed the opportunity to stage a coup. 

Piett was an officer of the old school who understood that it was cheaper to wave a heavy blaster than it was to actually fire it. The Death Star battle station was a triumph in military engineering, but it was simply impractical as a weapons platform. Destroying one world served as a unique example if employed directly, but Tarkin had wasted it on Chandrilla. Other worlds that sported the super-rich and elite would have rallied more people to the government's cause; Chandrilla served only infuriate the oppressed.

The Death Star was also vulnerable to sabotage in Piett's opinion. It was simply too easy for Rebel agents to sneak aboard, possibly a suicide-bomber, and get into the reactor core. From the outside, he knew, it was protected quite well, especially since Admiral Thrawn had gone over the design and found several fatal errors. This confrontation was going to be interesting because Piett would finally see how the Death Star would stand up to a coordinated attack. 

In theory, it was possible to overload the defensive shields with enough firepower. Only an Imperial star fleet could muster such destructive force. That theory was going to be put to the test very soon. If they succeeded, then Piett's star would continue to rise; if they failed, he would be no worse off than he was right now.

The idea was too weaken the shields enough to allow the platoon of Crimson Guardsmen to get onboard and seize control of the station. Then Deceptra would assume command and execute Tarkin and the senior officers immediately. The Death Star would then be removed from Corellia and the Death Squadron would be assigned to suppress the uprisings.

It seemed all too simple and Piett was awaiting the one thing that would complicate the entire affair.

"Captain, I'm receiving a diplomatic message for Lady Deceptra," the communications officer called out.

Piett thought it most likely another would-be suitor. One family or another was constantly courting his mistress, but he knew she only had eyes for Soontir Fel. "Reroute it with the other traffic; I'm sure she'll look at it eventually."

"Sir," the officer began, his voice cracking slightly with nervousness. "It is coming from Alderaan."

"This channel is secure, sir," the dark-haired man said as he accepted a steaming cup of caf from someone off screen.

Garm Bel Iblis nodded and sipped from his own cup. "I'm glad to see that you got the equipment I sent. I'm even happier that someone knows how to use it."

Wedge Antilles nodded. "We've had a number of Imperial techs come over to our side recently and they put it all together."

"How goes the fighting?" Bel Iblis asked.

Wedge sighed. "We've given Tarkin a headache, but his recent speech has occupied most of his time. His fleet is able to knock out just about anything we throw his way, though we have been able to get some supplies in through the underworld." Bel Iblis nodded. Black Sun was providing the much-needed smuggling to Corellia and scoring record profits by doing so. The former senator had to wonder if the money that was being spent wasn't going to end up putting Xizor on the throne of the Empire one day.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about; I think it's time for you to leave."

Wedge's eyes went wide. "What? You want us to just up and leave? What about the people?"

"Antilles, you're a fool if you think anything that you and your people are doing on Corellia are stopping Tarkin from blowing the planet away. All that is going to happen is he is going to waste time right there killing you off and you'll serve no other purpose." Bel Iblis pressed some buttons and transmitted a packet of data through the transmission. "This is heavily encrypted so you'll have to get your best slicer on it; it's the coordinates for the Rebel base. The only way we can win is if we are united."

"Sir, with all due respect, I think we can make a real difference here," Wedge told him. The data pack was downloaded onto his data pad and he handed it off to a technician. "We've rallied the people…"

"And pretty soon those star destroyers are going to start a turbolaser barrage and it will be over." He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I know it feels like you're running away, but do you think I would ever do anything to purposely endanger our home?"

Wedge thought about it for a moment and realized how ridiculous the idea was. "Still, what are a bunch of ground pounders, techs and space jockeys going to be able to offer the Rebellion?"

Bel Iblis laughed despite himself. "Between you and me, not much; not yet anyway. I have a plan in the works to give us the leverage we need to take on the Death Star."

"A spy?"

Bel Iblis shrugged. "Perhaps. It's no secret that there are some influential and high ranking people in the Empire that would like to see a return to the ways of the Republic. A true soldier desires peace and loathes war, remember that Commander."

Wedge noted the use of a military rank. Before joining with the uprising on Corellia, he had been a simple cargo pilot with no background in the army or navy. By giving him an officer's rank, Bel Iblis had formally drafted Wedge into the Rebellion. "In for a credit, in for the sabbac pot I guess," he mumbled.

"I've already arranged it. You have the rank and privileges of commander in the Alliance command structure. Your specialty will be star fighters."

Wedge winced. "I've never flown a star fighter…"

"Which is why I want you getting to the Rebel base and start training up. We're short on pilots and I've talked with a few people, especially many smugglers. Dash Rendar told me you're an honest man with a mean flight path."

Wedge laughed. He knew Rendar from two previous confrontations. Rendar had had tried smuggle cargo into port by pretending to be Wedge. It had led to one fistfight in a tavern that both men had enjoyed immensely in the true Corellian tradition. Though not friends, they had learned to respect each other and stay out of each other's way.

"There is also the issue of your brother-in-law," Bel Iblis said. Wedge said nothing but the Rebel leader noticed the darkness that washed over Wedge's normally jovial features. "Tarkin has issued a death warrant for him and we think he's escaped to the planet's surface."

"He's not my problem."

Shaking his head, Bel Iblis disagreed. "He loved your sister very much and you know it. He is an honorable man who simply has different political views. He may change those views if he sees first hand what is going on with Corellia."

Wedge said nothing but turned away. He had never met his brother-in-law until his sister's funeral. They had barely spoken, both of them filled with grief. Fel had barely stayed on the planet and when he had, he was escorted everywhere by the military governor so that he hadn't seen the terrible conditions that not personified the planet. Maybe he didn't know what was really happening.

It was possible. Everything Wedge had heard about Fel was that he was a decent man, but that he also believed in the New Order. In theory, the Emperor's government did sound good; it was the practice that was the problem. 

Wedge had one small issue to discuss concerning his dead sister's husband. "He's sleeping with Deceptra. He's too far gone to be brought over."

Bel Iblis's face saddened. "You don't know the whole story, especially about Deceptra. Many good men have fallen for her through no fault of their own. There is a quality about her that is desirable on a level far beyond the physical. Don't hate him because he wants to love again."

"I can't reconcile myself to the idea…"

"Well, Commander, get used to doing things you don't like then because this is an order. This is a rebellion, not a protest and we need every advantage we can get. I am ordering you to begin the withdrawal of your forces from Corellia. You will use Black Sun to ferry them and your equipment out, paying them with the credit reserves I left on the planet." Wedge knew that Bel Iblis was paying for this out if his own family's fortune. By the time the withdrawal was over with, the former senator would be dirt poor most likely. 

Just like most Corellians. "If, during this time, you are contacted by your brother-in-law, you will offer him the opportunity to join up. You may use whatever incentive you feel is appropriate."

Wedge nodded and felt his stomach tighten. "And what if he refuses?"

Bel Iblis's voice took on a chilling tone. "Then you will deny the Empire that asset. Are we clear?"

Wedge slowly nodded and looked over his shoulder to the two former Imperial commandos that were now his personal bodyguards. They also nodded, understanding the implications of the statement. "I'll begin everything as soon as possible."

"Try to do it quicker, Commander," Bel Iblis said before cutting the transmission.


	24. Chapter 23

Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior

By Christopher W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2003 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2003 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.

**CHAPTER 23**

He had some memories that he hadn't recalled previously, memories of a life before the change, before he realized exactly what he was. He remembered a father figure, but nothing maternal. Was that significant, he wondered, giving his mind something to occupy itself as he made his way to the Imperial palace? 

He had eaten and his strength had returned and then, strangely enough, he had gone back to sleep. He knew that he had been in cryogenic suspension for many years, as his last memory was from more than a decade before, and during that time, he should have gotten plenty of rest. Still, he had been very tired after his meal and had gone to sleep in an alleyway.

During his slumber, he had dreamed of the world and of the galaxy as the Force continued to pour into him. Awakening, he had a better sense of his purpose and that had led him to this place that radiated so strongly in his mind.

There was a legion of stormtroopers milling about the front of the palace as well as several special operations troopers in heavy-grade armor. Civilians were being kept far back and more than once he saw a curious gawker get shot down by the guards. Full military curfew was in effect, but he didn't care. He was going inside the castle.

"Halt," a stormtrooper captain said, pointing his blaster at the man as he approached. Several other troopers marched over and kept their weapons trained on him. "This is a restricted area and you are in violation of current operational procedures. State your name and business."

The man laughed. "My name is none of your concern because you are dead."

All of the troopers went to pull their triggers at the same time, but the man called the Dark Side to him and used it as a neural whip. Not just the troopers, but also everyone in the area suddenly arched their backs in pain as their nerve endings were set on fire and muscle control became something they would never achieve again.

Various sounds and smells permeated the immediate area as each and every person lost control of the bodily functions. Some began to bleed out of their eyes and noses, others could only whimper as their hearts stopped between beats, never to move again. One by one, they started to fall, stormtrooper, common guard and government functionary.

Those not within the immediate area that saw the event started to either move away if they were smart, or move closer if they had a death wish. There was a firmly established perimeter to man's power as he was keeping it in close. With each passing second, the Force opened up more doors to him, showed him more things he thought he had forgotten. 

Finally, the last man fell and not a moment too soon as repulsor carriers with more troops began to race into the court square. The man could battle them, but he had better things to do. He knew that this castle had an impressive array of defensive weapons and all he had to do was reach out with the Force and find the mind of the technician responsible for them.

He entered through the front door and was surprised to find two Crimson Guardsmen awaiting him. Each had some limited Force ability and it aided them in the way they expertly wielded their force-pikes. One made a cut for his head but he threw him back with a wave of his hand. The other was smarter, coming in low and drawing a small holdout blaster at the same time.

The man deflected the blow and dodged the blaster bolt, surprised and pleased that the martial training was one of those memories that had returned. The Guardsman with the blaster tried to twist away to get another shot in, but the long cloak he wore condemned him. The man grabbed and with Force0enhanced strength, yanked hard on it and snapped the Guardsman's neck.

He stepped over the body of the other one and made his way down a side passage to the main control room. Through the Force, he had sensed the fear of the persons inside as they watched him dispatch all of those troops via holocams. Standing before the door, he smiled and cleared his throat. "Hello?" he called. "Won't you open the door?"

 A tech called from the inside, telling him to go away for he had called for more guards. "Good; it's been a long time since I've been able to kill so easily." He then rapped on the door with his knuckles, once again requesting entry. Again he was refused and despite the fun he was having, he knew it had to end. With a simple thought, he projected his will through the plasteel door and into the mind of the tech. With no more effort than he would have used to scratch his head, he had the technician kill his partner and activate the castles outer defenses.

The man was rewarded with the sounds of turbolaser fire and the staccato beat of repeating lasers as they targeted the Imperial troops on the outside. He left the technician the way he was, for he was a weak-minded fool who would serve no other purpose. Already the Dark Side was burning away the remnants of personality from the tech's brain and by the time the man had entered the turbolift and dispatched the guard on the inside, the tech was dead.

Sate Pestage never knew what hit him.

A loyal servant of the Emperor, Pestage had remained in the castle and pledged his allegiance to Palpatine the minute that martial law was declared. The Emperor had noted with some satisfaction that there was no duplicity on his aide's behalf and that he truly did wish to serve his master in this time of crisis.

Always ready to pleas, Pestage had been running back and forth between the Emperor's throne room and the communications alcove several floors down. Every few minutes, Pestage would push his way past the Crimson Guards and Dark Side Adepts to personally deliver an updated status report. 

The people were, for the most part, staying out of the conflict between Tarkin and the Emperor, though some worlds chose this moment to swear fealty to the Rebel Alliance. The military was divided down the middle, however. Several of the older commanders were remaining true to Palpatine, no doubt hoping to gain Tarkin's position after his execution. Those units loyal to Tarkin had deserted their posts and were being tracked where they could. 

The Emperor would soon be fighting a two-front war, but Palpatine did not care for he had a back-up plan. Pestage would bring a report and offer some bit of advice, but the Emperor would only smile. He did, after all, have another, larger Death Star being built over Endor and even if that failed, he had a multitude of secret weapons hidden away for a rainy day. 

Then there were the Hapans whom he was sure he could convince to help him combat the rebellious Tarkin and accursed Alliance in exchange for something of value, say the Corporate Sector! Palpatine always had a back-up plan; one did not become a Dark Lord of the Sith without being completely prepared for every eventuality.

That was why it was so shocking to him when Pestage's head hit the wall next to him, a bewildered look upon its face. Five more Guardsmen perished before the strange man in the dark clothes stolen from a local store. The Dark Side Adepts screamed and suddenly the full effect of the Dark Side permeated the room. The man before the Emperor was powerful, able to hide his ability even from the Dark Lord.

"Who are you?" Palpatine asked, stepping past his quaking Adepts. The man stood in the doorway with a force-pike in his hand. Palpatine asked him again in the ancient tongue of the Sith.

Surprisingly, the man responded back with a slight Naboo accent. "I am the future; I did not realize it until I stood before you and our wills were joined in the Force."

"You have the mind and disposition of a Dark Lord," the Emperor said, trying to see his opponent in the shadows. As he stepped closer, the man stepped farther into the darkness. "Is that you Lord Maul?"

"Old age has made you senile," the man scoffed. "I am no apprentice."

"Then I face a rival master, then? Lord Vader? Is that so?" the Emperor asked, fishing for clues. 

"I am a warrior, I am what should have been. I was created as a tool, but I realize now I am the upgrade." The man stepped forward into the light and Palpatine gasped. He was looking into a mirror; a mirror from decades before.

It was he, back before he became a senator, back when he had completed his Sith training. There was the cocky grin, the steely eyes and thick brown hair. A noble chin that helped hide the dark forces brewing inside. "You are a clone!"

"Yes, your clone, the one you created years ago to house your dying body. The odd part is you never got around to using it, did you?" The clone stepped a little closer and Palpatine stepped back. "You tried having children, but they were all deformed or lack Force ability. So you then created me using the same technology that created your clone armies in the days of the Old Republic."

Palpatine glared at the clone. "I forgot all about you! You were a pet project that is all. Why settle for my own body when I could have my scientists work on a perfect one."

The clone spread his arms wide. "This body suits me for it is much more preferable to your dying carcass."

"It doesn't matter, pup, for I am the Dark Lord! I am Darth Sideous! I am the Emperor!"

The man moved quickly and struck with the force-pike, stabbing it into the Emperor's thigh. "You are a fool who lost sight of the objective. The Dark Lords of old speak to me, do they speak to you?"

The Emperor used the Force to trip his clone and then tried to crawl away. The clone was back up and he kicked the Emperor. "Do you not feel it, worm? Do you not feel how the Force leaves you and comes to me! You are a failure, Palpatine!"

"I rule the galaxy!"

"But not in the name of the Sith! That is the bargain, that is the deal with the devil, my dear Emperor!" He kicked the fallen Palpatine again and then went back to retrieve the force-pike. "You lost your focus doddering over Darth Deceptra!" He saw the look on Palpatine's face. "Oh, yes, your mind is an open book to me. The Force guides me to destroy you, to take your place, to become a true Dark Lord."

"You know nothing!"

Palpatine tried to summon the Force lightning, the most destructive of Sith talents, but his clone, in a full rage, pummeled him with his fists. Palpatine tried to defend himself, but the Force was truly leaving his body and he was becoming vulnerable. In his mind, he heard the voices of the ancient Sith Lords he saw, in his mind, the laughing visage of Darth Maul.

Palpatine began to see where his mistakes in life had been, starting with Anakin Skywalker. Had he trained young Skywalker, then perhaps he would have been better suited at the arts of subtlety. Instead, as a student of Maul, he had been direct in his confrontations. Without a Darth Vader by his side, the Emperor had tried to rely on a woman whose only real passion was trying to keep the memory of her lover alive. Anakin had true hate burning in him; Padme had simply been sad. It took anger to be a true Sith; sadness was a tool, hate was a way of life.

And it was hate that was giving his clone the power over him. His hate at Palpatine for having created him as nothing more than a vessel to house the Emperor's conciseness, a vehicle of immortality, disgusted the clone. The clone was realizing that if he just killed the Emperor, the galaxy was his. Instantaneous godhood.

The Emperor tried one final time to bring up a defense, but it was to no avail. This was a Dark Side warrior he faced and he was simply outclassed. Politics had made Palpatine soft and now he was paying the price.

"Now, Palpatine," the clone said, his face covered with splatters of blood, "now, you will die."

"I will see you in hell," the Emperor croaked.

"I'm a clone; I don't have a soul, so I don't think you'll be seeing me anywhere."

The clone stood up and raised the force-pike up in a double-handed grip. Crying out loud an ancient Sith battle cry, he plunged it deep into Palpatine's chest, piercing his black heart and pushing it out his back.

The Emperor's body shook and gyrated and small trails of lightning ran around it as the Force completely left the corpse. The clone smiled, imagining that the Emperor's spirit was watching the whole spectacle. He called out to it. "Watch, father," he laughed as he stared down at his handiwork. "I will achieve what you dreamed of, I will bring about a true resurrection of the Sith. I have all of your accomplishments in my brain and none of the failures."

He stepped away from the body and looked at the Adepts. "You…worms…I am your new master."

The Adepts fell to their knees and clasped their hands in front of them, begging for a command, any instruction to provide a way to show their new loyalty. To them, this was the natural way of succession and often they had talked among themselves about the potential end of their former master. It was the way of the Sith to decide matters through combat; Darth Maul had realized this and he had taught it to Darth Vader. Somewhere along the way, Palpatine had lost track of the way of the Sith, becoming self-absorbed in himself and his fetishes for technology.

Here before them was a Palpatine in his dark prime, yet even the Adepts, behind their praises and benedictions, could see the slight hint of madness in the clone's eyes. Perhaps it was a simple defect in the genetic engineering, or a result of cryogenic damage; maybe Palpatine had always had a little insanity running in him. 

"What shall we call you master?"

"Emperor! He is the Emperor!"

"No! He must assume the title of Darth to be a true Sith!"

"Bah! That is not always so!"

"Silence," the clone said quietly, his voice carrying weight through the Force. The Adepts were quieted immediately and the clone walked over to the throne. He could almost feel the disease in the chair that must have fallen from the Emperor's withered bones. It would have to be disinfected.

"I shall be Darth Ravage."

The Adepts clapped and shouted more praise for the decision and did so for many minutes until Ravage silenced them. "You," he said, pointing to one of the Adepts. "You will select a member of the government to speak to the people and announce that I am the Emperor's son, come to assume the throne. The Emperor will be reported assassinated by the…the…tell me, who is the enemy now?"

The Adept bowed his head. "There is a rebellion both by the populace and another one by a faction of the military."

Ravage thought about it. "Blame it on the military and then tell your prostrating brethren to bring me up to date on the state of affairs."

Ravage looked at the throne and shrugged, plopping down into the chair and turning it around to face the constant thunderstorms that were produced just outside. He put his feet up and listened as the Adepts hurried to carry out his orders. Several approached him and began telling him of their area of expertise. 

Of course, he would have to kill them once he had an apprentice, but for now, he would let them have a life of servitude to him.


	25. Chapter 24

Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior

By Christopher W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2003 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2003 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.

**CHAPTER 24**

"This doesn't look good," Boba said as he adjusted the feed on the incoming signal. The Imperial spokesman fluttered into crisper view as the wrinkles of static caused by solar radiation were filtered out. Though _Slave I_ was equipped with the best in communications gear that could be purchased in the Corporate Sector, their distance from any signal relays made getting a usable transmission a mission worthy of a Mandalorian warrior.

The spokesman, clad in the black uniform of a military functionary, read from a prepared statement. The transmission was several days old and was repeated every few minutes along with the declarations of both Tarkin and the Emperor.

Jango turned the volume up and sat back, his arms folded over his chest. Boba stood behind him as they watched the news in the cargo hold. "This is an official Imperial communication. At fourteen hundreds hours, Imperial Center time, on this date, Emperor Palpatine, supreme ruler of the galaxy, master of the New Order, liberator of the oppressed peoples of the universe, died today while administering to the needs of his people during this time of military crisis. While the official cause of his demise has not been determined, local Imperial Intelligence officers are seeking out several persons related to the current insurrection being caused by the former Moff Tarkin.

"Rule of the Empire has been passed onto the Emperor's son, Lord Ravage, Dark Lord of the Sith. Lord Ravage has been kept in hiding for several decades now to prevent his assassination by those who would see chaos reign over the galaxy. Lord Ravage intends to address the Empire in due course but is currently engaged in the investigation into his father's death.

"Lord Ravage calls upon all officers of command rank who would remain loyal to the tenets of the New Order to come to Imperial Center to swear an oath of fealty. Order will be restored. Lord Ravage urges calm and promises that those responsible for this tragedy will pay for their crimes."

There was a brief flicker and the face of Tarkin appeared, reading his statement. "Citizens of the Empire, I am Grand Moff Tarkin, commander of the Imperial battle station Death Star now in orbit over the planet of Corellia. For years I have served with distinction and honor under our Emperor Palpatine. Before that, I was a young senator of the Old Republic who became disgusted at the bureaucracy that was mired with corruption and deceit. As such, I am an expert on forms of government that do not work.

"Recently, I was placed in the position of using the weapons of the Death Star to destroy the planet of Chandrilla. This was done because the highest levels of their government had been found to be complicit with the Rebel Alliance. Representatives of that world refused all efforts for a peaceful resolution to the crisis and in fact threatened civil war."

A look of grave concern washed over the hologram's face and Jango frowned behind his helmet. He knew Tarkin to be a man with no sympathies. "I informed the Emperor of the situation and he ordered me to remove the Death Star from the system. If I had obeyed this order then our government would have collapsed. Peace and security would have been sacrificed so that the wealthy contributors to the government coffers would be allowed to continue operating as rogue agents. In good conscience, I could not allow this and so, under the guidelines of the Tarkin Doctrine, signed into law two years ago, I assumed military authority over the Chandrilla system and executed the rebels.

"It would have drained the resources of many worlds to finance the trials and investigations necessary to clear those few Chandrillan citizens who had nothing to do with the rebellion. For their loss, I am saddened and they will be remembered us unnamed Heroes of the Empire for the sacrifice for the New Order. Understand this, in order to keep the peace, extreme measures must sometimes be taken."

The hologram zoomed out a bit to reveal a large star map behind Tarkin. "Behind me is a representation of the Empire in relation to the other great interstellar governments. These hundreds of worlds rely on the strength of the Empire to keep them safe. Many of us are not so old that we have not forgotten the corruption of the Old Republic and the Jedi. Your Emperor, I am sorry to say, seems to have fallen prey to the very cancer he sought to cut out of the galaxy when he established the New Order. The wealthy control the galaxy while the common citizens works to support a system of castes designed to allow power to reside in the hands of those with the credits to purchase it.

"Many of you know the wealth that Chandrilla possessed and how the Emperor tolerated the liberal stance that world took towards Imperial policy. How many worlds have suffered over the decades because of favorable treatment given to some worlds, while other worlds, such as Corellia, have suffered?"

Jango paused the transmission and looked to his son. "It's a load of bantha poodoo. I know for a fact that Tarkin negotiated several contracts with Kuat Drive Yards in order to take shipbuilding business away from Corellia. Thing is, I'm pretty sure I remember the Emperor always taking credit for it."

"Do you think the people will fall for it?" Boba asked. Jango had tried to keep his son insulated from the complexities of Imperial politics. Matters like this clouded a warrior's judgment as he tried to decide which side he belonged on. A warrior was meant to perform his duty, his mission, and his job. When they had worked in the Corporate Sector that had been the way of it. Here, back in the snake pit that was the Empire, it was hard to keep focused.

"The people are not who he's preaching to. He is speaking to the commanders of the fleets and garrisons. It's no secret that many worlds have suffered under Palpatine, while others have prospered. Tarkin has probably arranged for many officers from devastated worlds such as Corellia to be placed in important positions. The power of the Empire resides in the military. Palpatine couldn't have assumed control of the Republic and destroyed the Jedi without it." Jango stretched and then stood up, leaving the transmission paused. They had both watched it several times and would view it a few more over the next few days. "It doesn't change our original contract."

"What do you mean? Palpatine is dead; this Lord Ravage is under no obligation to pay us for this Mothma woman. It's a bad deal all around; no profit," Boba pointed out.

Jango countered. "We've been paid half up front. We complete our missions no matter what. If you give your word, then you keep it, regardless of the cost." They both headed up the ladder into the cockpit. "Besides, if this Ravage is Palpatine's son, then he may honor the contract to keep us happy. Leaders always need good hunters."

"Sounds like Lord Ravage isn't going to have an Empire to run," Boba said as he strapped himself into the co-pilot's seat. They were in orbit over Yavin 4, awaiting a meteorite that was streaking in-system towards the planet. Their passive sensors had picked up the Rebel's communications and they had no desire to alert them to their presence. Instead, they would follow the meteorite down onto the far side of the moon and then fly towards the Rebel base at treetop level.

"We don't even know if Mara Mothma is here," Boba whined.

Jango wanted to rebuke him, but he knew his son was having difficulty sleeping. Ever since they had entered orbit, at a point that the Rebel sensors couldn't detect them unless they moved, Boba had been plagued with nightmares. A cold, dark voice called to him from shadowy mists, telling him that his body was no longer his own.

Jango could not even imagine what could have triggered the dreams in his son, as he had never suffered from any. Boba was a perfect clone of Jango, a man who had never married and never had the desire to. He had wanted an heir but did not want the responsibility of caring for a spouse as well. When he had allowed Darth Sideous to use him as the blueprint for the clone army of the Republic, he had requested a clone for himself, unaltered.

"She's here, and judging by the amount of comms we're picking up, something is going on." He checked the sensors and saw they still had a few minutes before the meteorite arrived. "The whole galaxy is in an uproar. First Chandrilla, then Tarkin declares himself military governor of the Empire and then Palpatine is assassinated."

"If he was assassinated…"

Jango shook his head. "Sith Lords don't just die, believe me. Someone has to kill them." Jango remembered when he had been contracted to kill Darth Tyrannus, who was once Palpatine's apprentice. He had made it look like Tyrannus, who was known to the Republic as Count Dooku, had been murdered by the Jedi for his support of the Chancellor Palpatine's investigation into the affairs of the Jedi. "Regardless, if Ravage doesn't pay for her, then Tarkin will."

"Tarkin would pay more to know where the Rebel base is," Boba explained. 

"This is only one of many bases and it's out in the middle of nowhere," Jango told him as he warmed up the maneuvering thrusters. "He won't leave Corellia until he pacifies it."

"It's his rallying point," Boba said off-hand.

Jango nodded and started to follow the meteorite as it flashed by, heading to the distant surface. "From there he will be able to spread his influence. He'll bring the shipyards back up, provide jobs, that sort of thing. After that, his fleets will start to come in and they will spread out."

"With the Death Star, he will be unstoppable."

"Maybe…"

Two days later, Boba had nailed Mara's exact location. Using equipment developed in the Corporate Sector for use in industrial espionage, he tapped into her personal communicator. Jango was happy to see that Boba was focused on their mission again. Hopefully they would be able to find Mara, capture her, and burn for Imperial Center within the week. 

Jango had to confess a certain amount of curiosity when it came to this Lord Ravage, who still had not appeared before the Imperial peoples. The news nets were full of stories about individual encounters between loyalist and Tarkinist forces, occasionally a Rebel fleet getting involved as well.

The big news was that Admiral Harkov had disappeared with his fleet, pledging neither support for Lord Ravage or for Tarkin. Jango suspected that the Admiral had quickly mad a beeline for the Rebellion after looking up the historical information on the officer. He was a career officer who had come from a wealthy family but had very little personal combat experience. He was an administrator who probably did not relish the idea of trying to figure out who was friend or foe. Better to join the enemy and know what was what.

Jango suspected that Harkov's fleet was on its way here. The amount of activity going on with the Rebels indicated that they were preparing to move out. Supply ships were not coming in as often and many transports were leaving fully loaded. Jango wondered where they were going. The only indication was something called "Site 2".

"She communicates with only four individuals, Boba said as they ate their noon meal. "The first is Talon Karde, just as you thought. They seem to be in charge of the entire supply situation, coordinating between different smugglers. The second is a protocol droid designated as C-3PO." Boba smiled. "He's annoying even for a droid."

"That's why I had you learn languages on your own. Better that way, less irritation." Part of Boba's education had been on the many languages he might encounter in his travels once he started working on his own. He could understand several alien tongues, but could speak very few. It wasn't a lack of intelligence; it was simply that human vocal cords could not approximate many of the languages of the galaxy.

The Mandalorian armor also came with a small translation package in the helmet but Jango had tried to teach Boba to rely on nothing but him. It was the warrior that was the weapon; the armaments and equipment were simply commentary. "She has a Wookie bodyguard," Boba commented. "Not your average one either; this is someone with a real hand on physical security and tactics. His name is Chewbacca."

Jango searched his memory but the name meant nothing to him. "You said there were four?"

The younger hunter pushed back his plate. "An archeologist named Malakie. He and Mothma spend a lot of time on a private channel."

"Lovers?"

"They are still in the flirting stages right now I suppose. They discuss many things but if you learn to read between the lines you can tell there is something there." Boba tapped a few keys on a nearby datapad and a small hologram of a young man with stark white hair and strange alien eyes appeared. "I pulled this from the security records the Rebels are keeping. They are as efficient as the Imperials at keeping records."

Jango leaned in close and recognized immediately who it was. There were no tattoos, no horns on the head, but there was no mistaking the eyes and facial features. "I'll be damned," Jango swore.

Boba regarded his father for a moment. "You know this man?"

"I think he's related to Darth Maul."

"The Sith Lord? I thought he was dead," Boba replied, staring at the hologram. He pulled the picture of Darth Maul up from memory and tried comparing the two. It was much easier for his father to make the comparison because he had known Maul. Often times during his childhood in the Corporate Sector Boba had heard his father speak of Lord Maul with great respect.

Maul had been throwback to the golden age of the Sith, a true dark Jedi warrior. He had been the master of Darth Vader until Vader decided it was time to break tradition and take his wife on as an apprentice. Darth Maul had believed in the "one master, one apprentice" creed of the Sith and it had brought him into conflict with the Emperor.

Of all of the people of his past, Jango Fett felt that the passing of Darth Maul had been the greatest tragedy. Like a Mandalorian warrior, Maul was direct and upfront, hating the subtlety of political games that the Emperor had become so proficient at.

"Maul is dead, but it appears he might have spawned a child," Jango remarked as he rubbed his chin. "We'll have to be careful; I might have admired Maul, but I didn't want to deal with him. If this is his son, then we would be wise to avoid him if we can."

"Are you scared?" Boba asked, his voice trembling. Never in his life had he heard his father warn him in such a way.

"I'm not afraid of anyone, but it doesn't do any good to pick a fight that doesn't need to be fought." He looked at his son and he saw that the reply had not made him feel any better. Boba had an idealized version of warfare and the galaxy; their life in the Corporate Sector had simply been too soft. A warrior has to live a life of hardship to temper them; Boba had not done that. He had the skill, but not the experience of tragedy to hone his edge.

Jango Fett had succumbed to love of a father towards his son and now he was afraid his son would pay the price. Had they stayed in the Corporate Sector, Boba would have lived his days well enough doing security work. Here in the real galaxy, he wasn't sure if being a bounty hunter was the life Boba should be pursuing.

All of those mental debates would have to wait as Boba pointed out that with the Rebels bugging out, it was only a matter of time before they lost the trail of Mara. "We need to grab her," he said.

Jango agreed. "If she and this son of Maul really are starting a romance, she won't leave without saying good-bye."

"More than likely, someplace private," Boba added. "This man, this Malakie, he works at the ruins some two kilometers from the Rebel base with his mother."

"His mother?"

"An old woman named Gethzerion."

Jango recognized that name, as it was one that Count Dooku had used in passing, something about the "young Gethzerion has displayed great ability in the Force". It added to the mystery of Malakie and Jango wondered of they would solve it before they left Yavin 4?

Finishing their meal, the two bounty hunters left the safety of their ship and headed into the jungle, seeing where to set up their ambush.


	26. Chapter 25

Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior

By Christopher W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2003 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2003 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.

**CHAPTER 25**

At over 200 years old, Chewbacca considered himself a pretty good judge of character and he finally decided that Malakie was not an honest person. His feelings for Mara were true enough, though they were not as extensive as Talon Karde feared. There was something else about Malakie that Chewbacca could feel and now he was determined to find out exactly what it was.

The Wookie sniffed the air and caught Malakie's scent amid the smells of the jungle. This moon was hotter than Chewbacca's world, but it was relatively safer. As a hunter, Chewbacca did not fear predators, but he knew to respect them. He tried to follow Malakie's path but was unable and that bothered Chewbacca. Wookies, though large, were extremely agile, yet Malakie was maneuvering a path that Chewbacca could not. The added detours through the trees were slowing him down, but he was confident that his tracking skills would allow him to keep up.

As he moved through the jungle, Chewbacca's mind wandered from the here and now to the past. Like so many other Wookies, Chewbacca had left him while still young to seek adventure in the stars. He had seen the Old Republic and had felt great sadness at the loss of the Jedi Knights. Palpatine's rise to power and the anti-alien sentiment of the New Order did not sit well with him, yet he was powerless to do anything about it. Instead, he had sought out odd jobs with various employers, hoping to one day earn enough credits to purchase his own ship.

With a vessel of his own, Chewbacca had dreams of becoming a trader and possibly going back home to collect his son. When Mon Mothma had approached him about being Mara's bodyguard, he had jumped at the chance.

It was too bad that he had been paid in Chandrillan script, for now he had nothing. With the destruction of Chandrilla and the demonizing of its people by the Empire, the money he had received had plummeted in value. He stayed on because he had nothing else to do. There was no life debt involved in his agreement and he was under no obligation by Wookie code to remain, but he had become somewhat fond of the human Rebels and their cause. The Empire had taken many Wookies into bondage and Chewbacca was willing to put his life on the line to save his brothers.

He was two kilometers out when he came upon the start of the ruins. According to Mara, Malakie and Gethzerion were spending their time at the temples in what was referred to as Grid Sector 7. Long ago, this moon had been inhabited by a race of semi-intelligent creatures, but their history and demise eluded Chewbacca. As a hunter, he had a great appreciation of history but these long-lost people seemed to foreign for him to relate to. Instead, he marveled at their creations, temples and cities made of stone and wondered about what consumed them to create such works.

Some of the Rebel officers, the older ones, would whisper that this was a place strong in the Dark Side of the Force, part of the ancient religion of the Jedi. They said this had once been a base of operations of the Sith, but Chewbacca really didn't know. Jedi were very rare among the Wookies and so while they were well regarded, they were something of a mystery. Chewbacca did think it was odd that Malakie would choose such a place to perform his work, especially in the middle of a galactic civil war.

The Rebel interrogators were sure that the strange-looking human was not an Imperial agent and the defecting pilot and stormtroopers vouched for him (though Chewbacca had to question the wisdom of trusting ex-stormtroopers). Mara was convinced, but Chewbacca was sure she was letting her more feminine emotions cloud her judgment.

"He has done absolutely nothing to bring suspicion upon him except claim to want to explore this moon," Mara had said during a heated discussion between herself and Talon Karde. Chewbacca had stood in the background, listening and eating his lunch. Human quarrels were amusing in that the participants generally tried to reach down for their primal instincts and often fell short. In Wookie society, any true argument resulted in blows being traded, biting and snarling. 

"He is of a species we cannot identify, there is no official record of him anywhere in the Imperial census," Talon had countered. 

"The Imperial census is tainted and you know it! They pad the numbers to increase conscription on the weaker planets!" Mara had screamed back.

The fight then degraded into threats and hissing and it was then that Chewbacca started to realize that Talon was truly hurt by what he perceived as Mara's defection. Chewbacca understood love well enough and he saw that while Talon was not head-over-heels for Mara, he was at least entertaining the idea of possibly pursuing her in the near future. 

It appeared that another male had scented on Talon's territory and Chewbacca knew that the situation had to be resolved. Talon kept bringing up the fact that Malakie was a security risk and Chewbacca should "talk" with him, but the big Wookie had been avoiding the confrontation. He did not dislike Malakie, he just didn't trust him. He was confident he could protect Mara from him, but Talon had been insistent.

To keep the smuggler happy, Chewbacca had finally relented and agreed to follow Malakie just to see if he was actually doing any research. If he were, then his risk as a potential threat to Mara would be downgraded severely. If not, then Chewbacca would warn him off.

Wookie style.

Chewbacca entered a clearing created by several smaller temples that ringed a black pool of water. There were no animals here and Chewbacca noticed that his inner fur lining was standing up. His predatory senses were suddenly alert and an inner voice was telling him to run away. It reminded him of the stories of his childhood on Kashyyyk where the elders would talk about the creatures that lived on the planet surface. The Wookies lived in great cities built at the tops of the massive trees that covered the planet.

He unslung his bowcaster and patted the bandolier wrapped across his chest. A small growl came from his throat as he peered into the dark mist that seemed to hang on everything in the immediate area. He was out in the open and could see the sun burning brightly in the afternoon sky, but there was darkness all around him.

The temples here were not like the ones the Rebels made their bases in. These were not as well cared-for and there were thousands of strange symbols carved into them. Chewbacca guessed it was some sort of picture language but the translation was lost on him. An intelligent creature, he had never bothered to learn any other language beyond Galactic Basic. 

"Well, well, it seems I have a visitor," Malakie said as he stepped out from behind a temple. His form seemed to shimmer with a purple haze and Chewbacca gripped his weapon a little tighter. Malakie stepped into the clearing and Chewbacca noted that he was clad only in a loincloth and gun belt. There was no blaster, however, only a long cylinder. 

There were fresh tattoos on Malakie's body, made up of the symbols on the temples and small rivers of blood wash down the man's chest. "Ah, my artwork. I did it myself; a test of concentration and pain control."

Chewbacca started to say something, but then remembered that Malakie didn't speak Wookie. "Ah, but I can sense your thoughts, beast. I know the questions that are forming in your little mind. What is this place? Who am I really? Do I pose a threat to Mara?" Malakie moved over and sat down on a rock, pulling the cylinder off of the belt and laying it across his lap. "In answer to your third question, I mean absolutely no harm to Mara. I find her to be a companion in the Force."

Chewbacca's eyes narrowed and Malakie laughed. "You do know what the Force is, right? It is that which holds the universe together and with it, men of great vision can achieve wondrous things."

Chewbacca roared. Malakie got the meaning. "Dark Side…Light Side…two sides of the same decacredit; catch phrases and spacers terms. There is only the Force and those who have mastered it."

The Wookie did not like what he was hearing; it reminded him of the holodramas that the Empire put out on the Jedi and he knew that was all propaganda. The Jedi had represented the good side of existence; Malakie was speaking like something else entirely.

"Had you stayed with your mistress, you would have lived," Malakie said with a sigh as he stood up. "The truth be told I have found you to be interesting, an oddity I would have put in my private zoo." Chewbacca growled at the insult and brought up the bowcaster to remind Malakie who was armed here. A death in the jungle was not uncommon on Yavin 4.

"Be a good pet and pull the trigger," Malakie demanded, his eyes twinkling. Chewbacca then felt the presence enter his mind. It was foreign and depraved, human thoughts and emotions, all dark and twisted, intermingled with his own even as he started to pull the trigger against his will.

The bowcaster fired and there was a _whoosh_ as Malakie ignited the double-bladed lightsaber. It was a design originally created by Exar Kunn and used only by the greatest of Sith warriors over the centuries. The orange blades whirled several times before deflecting the bolt into the woods. There was a howl as some creature's life suddenly ended.

Malakie released his mental control over the Wookie, betraying none of the exhaustion he felt from the act. Alien minds were extremely difficult to control and Chewbacca had been far from weak-willed. "I am the Dark Apprentice, a Sith warrior sworn to my master, Exar Kunn. Together, he and I will raise the Sith Empire again and I will take my place as heir to the title of my father, Darth Maul."

Chewbacca knew that name as well as any other creature did in the galaxy. Darth Maul, the dreaded Dark Lord of the Sith who had killed many of the most powerful Jedi. It had been Darth Maul who had trained Darth Vader, who had in turn trained Darth Deceptra. Darth Maul was as much the father of evil in the galaxy as the Emperor had been.

Chewbacca went for a headshot, but Malakie, his body full of the Force, moved to quickly. He dodged away, but hesitated making a direct attack until he could fully recover from his mental excursion. Chewbacca noticed the hesitation in his prey and tried to exploit it, firing a series of shots that burned away plants and blackened stone, but none of them came close to striking the intended target.

The Wookie, however, was a seasoned hunter and he started to see a pattern to Malakie's moves and when he fired the next barrage, he anticipated the young Sith's moves and the last one burned deep into Malakie's thigh. He cried out and fell onto his back, suffering more shame than pain. In his head, Exar Kunn cursed him and berated him for being so foolish.

The Dark Apprentice struggles to get up but the shot had been meant to numb the leg and had done so with great efficiency. Malakie's anger grew stronger and he yanked the Force from the living things in the area, even Chewbacca, who stumbled slightly as he approached his fallen opponent. The Dark Side enabled Malakie to push away the pain and force feeling back into his leg. He didn't understand the consequences of that action, that the power of the Dark Side poisoned the muscle. He was young and strong, though, and would eventually recover, though not fully.

The blades came up and pushed the Wookie back. Chewbacca snarled as he tried to gain some sort of advantage, but his weapon was meant for ranged attacks, not the close quarters fighting that this battle was becoming. He tossed the bowcaster to the side and gave a small smile.

Chewbacca's soft blue eyes were seductive, pulling opponents in as they came to believe he was nothing more than a big stuffed toy. Normally, it was a fatal mistake as Malakie nearly found out. Feeling that Chewbacca was now unarmed, the arrogant Sith stepped forward and tried to impale the Wookie. Malakie's greatest weakness, however, was that he simply had not been given enough training in the use of his weapon. Darth Maul would never have stepped in so close.

Massive claws, normally sheathed on the Wookie, came free and dug deep into Malakie's arm. He screamed out as Chewbacca's natural weapons tore muscle and sinew and the lightsaber went flying away. Fear slowly began to creep into Malakie's mind as the Wookie growled and pulled, tearing Malakie's left arm free. Blood the color of hot lava spewed everywhere as the young man let loose with a curse that shook the very Force.

Chewbacca stepped back, still holding the arm. Malakie fell, but managed to stop the bleeding momentarily with the Force. He stretched out his good hand and called his lightsaber to him. He ignited one part of it and through tears of pain and blood, he addressed Chewbacca. "You fight well, monster, but I am a Sith. I will not be denied!" 

Malakie touched the saber to his wound and there was the smell of roasted meat in the air. Chewbacca wrinkled his nose, but continued to stare in fascination as Malakie coldly cauterized the wound. "A…true…Sith…welcomes the…pain of vic…victory!"

Chewbacca realized that it was time to leave. His duty was to warn Talon Karde and Mara of what was really happening, that the Sith were here. If Malakie was the son of Darth Maul, then he was real trouble for the Rebel Alliance.

"My son!" Gethzerion cackled as she emerged from one of the temples. She started mumbling under her breath and Chewbacca felt the air fill with electricity. The Dathomir witch was summoning the Force-storm, one of the most destructive powers wielded by the dark Jedi. Chewbacca roared an insult and then threw the arm, striking Gethzerion in the head. 

She went down, but the Force storm had already started. A foul wind roared through the clearing, blowing leaves and dust and the occasional animal into the air. Small tornados of darkness and lightning started to form and Chewbacca took a small strike in the back. His fur was singed but he was otherwise unharmed.

Malakie was starting to get up, but the fight was out of him. He was pale, a shade of white that usually proceeded death and Chewbacca was confident that despite the amazing abilities that Malakie had demonstrated, he was done for. The Wookie had spent enough time on enough hunts to know when an animal was done for. It was time for him to leave and he started to turn when Malakie called out to him.

"I am not finished with you, pet," he said, his voice carrying on the wicked wind his mother had conjured. "You are my test; the only warrior capable of meeting me in combat on this moon. One of us must die."

Chewbacca realized that he was not going to get to leave that easily. Even if he got back to the Rebel base quickly, there was no way of knowing the full extent of Malakie's or Gethzerion's powers. The witch was getting back up and there was murder in her eyes. Malakie waved the lightsaber. "Come, let us finish this!"

Chewbacca ran, putting all of the skills he had learned in his two centuries of life into his stride. In his mind, a thousand scenarios played out, each one with the same outcome: Malakie was about to die. The Wookies were the masters of the fast attack and he adjusted his attack so that he would pass just close enough to take off the other arm.

At the last instant, Chewbacca saw the look of knowing in Malakie's eyes and the Wookie knew that he had fallen into a trap. Malakie dodged the claws this time and ignited the other blade of his lightsaber. Whirling it with one hand, he cut deep into Chewbacca's back, sending the Wookie crashing into the side of a temple. 

Malakie was on him in an instant. With two quick slashes, he severed both the Wookie's limbs. Chewbacca roared in pain and tried to avoid the final strike into his chest, but the Sith was simply too fast. Malakie plunged the blade deep and Chewbacca screamed over the noise of the Force-storm. Malakie lacked the strength to follow through with the blow and fell flat on his face next to the unmoving Wookie.

Gethzerion continued to chant, using the familiar words as a focal point for her tap into the Force and gradually the storm died away. As the last vestiges of it attacked the local fauna, the witch called out the Exar Kunn. "He has passed, my lord! Save my son! Save my son!"

_Quit your whining, witch! Your son yet lives! Bring him into the temple._

_And bring the arm as well!_


	27. Chapter 26

Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior

By Christopher W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2003 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2003 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.

**CHAPTER 26**

The _Remarkable_, an older Victory-Class star destroyer, once the hallmark of the Republic Navy, reverted to real space at the edge of the Endor system. The commanding officer, a man whose service record indicated that he was from Imperial Center, smiled as another successful hyperspace jump was completed. "Gun crews to their stations!" the executive officer called out.

The ship went to general quarters and the captain moved briskly over to stand next to General Madine. "Are you ready?" the naval officer asked. The bearded general, his rank insignia now old enough to have gotten dusty yet, smiled.

"Proceed with the operation, Captain."

The captain nodded and pointed to the communications officer, who nodded. A channel was open between the star destroyer and the construction project looming over the forest moon of Endor. "Death Star Site Bravo, this is the VSD _Remarkable_."

There was a pause and then a young sounding voice replied. "Uh, this is Site Bravo, go ahead."

"We are under orders from Grand Moff Tarkin to assume command of this facility. We are being pursued by loyalist forces and require aid in fending them off." Tarkin had already staffed the second Death Star project with his own people. The new Death Star under construction was even more massive than its older brother, a full forty kilometers larger at the equator. It was still nothing more than a skeleton in many places, barely visible from the distance the _Remarkable_ was cruising.

"Understood. I have been authorized to inform you that the _Conquest_ and the _Slayer_ are going to head out full speed to your position. Fighter patrols are being launched now."

The captain smiled and nodded. The communications officer in turn replied. "Very good. We believe we have an hour jump on the loyalists. They are composed of elements of the Fifth Fleet that were supposed to be put under the command of General Madine."

A new voice came over the speaker. "Is General Madine with you?"

Crix hurried over to the comms station. "This is General Madine."

"Sir, the orders of your promotion have been received. The station is yours."

Crix thanked the speaker and then cut the transmission. He looked at the Captain and smiled. The two of them had been working on this plan for a very long time. Crix Madine had long ago become disgusted with the way his homeworld had faired under the New Order. An officer in the Imperial Special Forces, he had considered joining up with the Rebellion, offering his special skills for use against his former masters.

Garm Bel Iblis had another idea, a plan that was the ultimate test of Crix's ability to blend in. Through various political connections, Bel Iblis had managed to get Crix posted to the Death Star and it was there his "loyalty" to the Tarkin and his ideals had put him on the fast track to promotion.

The captain of the _Remarkable_ was from Chandrilla, an agent of Mon Mothma and a man itching to get revenge for the destruction of his homeworld. Unknown to Tarkin and the rest of the Imperial military, Crix and the captain had arranged for all officers and crew aboard the _Remarkable_ that had a pro-Imperial stance to take a walk in space. 

Though undermanned, the _Remarkable_ was still a powerful vessel and with two Imperial-class star destroyers conveniently coming to their aid, several vessels under Tarkin's command were about to become space dust. "We've picked up the other star destroyers making full sublight to our position, sir!" called the sensor officer.

Crix looked up at the chronometer. "I'll need a private channel to the construction site. I need to explain exactly what is going on and make it believable."

The captain nodded. "Don't worry, General; three star destroyers can take on the Fifth, especially when they aren't flying under combat orders." The Endor site was believed to be unknown to the Rebel Alliance and Tarkin was sure that no fleets were within operating distance of it except for the token force he kept there to guard it. With a second Death Star, set to be operational in another three years, Tarkin would be the true master of the galaxy.

The people of Corellia had another thought in mind. "We also need to get the flash message to Yavin." Their ultimate goal was to have the Rebel Alliance assume control of the Death Star project, but not to build a space station. "It won't take long for Tarkin to send out another battle group after we report the defection and death of the Fifth."

And it was at that moment that they realized they were fully committed to the treason they were about to engage in. There was no hesitation, no second thoughts as Crix exited the bridge with his naval trooper escort. For months the Rebellion had been hoping to gain access to this site, especially after they realized its existence through Crix's position.

The super-laser of the second Death Star would be the perfect weapon to use against Tarkin's own station. There had been other flaws in the original design, by Admiral Thrawn had seen them and ordered corrections to be made. Not so long ago it would have been possible to destroy the entire station with a pair of proton torpedoes!

Thrawn had discovered that the fusion reactor exhaust ports were not properly defended against such an attack and it was, in theory, possible to send starfighters in to deliver the lethal payload. Tarkin had dismissed the idea, but Thrawn had ordered the proper changes to the design anyway. When Tarkin had found out that Thrawn had gone behind his back, he had begun his efforts to get the alien admiral reassigned.

Now, they needed fire to fight fire; water wouldn't do anymore. Crix Madine had been given the task of infiltrating the second Death Star construction project, though he had never dreamed that Tarkin would grow to trust him so much as to give him command! It was, hopefully, Tarkin's fatal error.

Crix entered his private suite where a young ensign was busy hooking up a secure link. Because of the distance between Yavin and Endor, there was no way to have a face-to-face conversation with General Reinkan, the commanding officer of Yavin Base. Instead, Crix would have make a detailed message and send it off in an encrypted pack that would be relayed from satellite to satellite. 

Given current conditions, solar winds and probable upkeep of the relays, it was estimated that it would take a little over a week for the message to get through. The largest obstacle was the relays. Instead of military satellites, Crix had to use civilian ones set up by Black Sun. "Any thoughts, Ensign?" Crix asked.

The young officer, Alderaanian by birth the general guessed from the dark hair and eyes, gulped. "I don't understand the question, sir."

Crix smiled. "At ease, Ensign; I don't want you going into cardiac arrest while your entering the encryption code."

The officer nodded and went back to work on a datapad. "I was wondering what you thought about news of the Emperor's death."

The news had been received with a wary eye by most of the officers on board. The Emperor might have been dead, but there were still plenty of people wanting to sit on his throne. News of the new Lord Ravage sounded to many like a trick. The Emperor got to his position by playing mind games with the public; it wouldn't have surprised many on the vessel that this Lord Ravage was really the Emperor himself in disguise, trying to ferret out Tarkinists in his own regime. 

Tarkin's betrayal of the Emperor had not been a shock either, but the assumption that he would have orchestrated the death of Palpatine seemed impossible. Palpatine had the loyalty of too many in Imperial Intelligence; Tarkin was loved by the ground-pounders, which is what made his coup so damaging. Even if ship's officer's resisted the urge to join in the coup, the common soldiers and sailors may not. A ship is run by its men, not by the whims of its officers!

"I don't know what to think, sir. For my entire life, there has always been the Empire," the ensign said, pausing in his work. There was a sad look in his eyes as he spoke. "I suppose I always equated the Empire to the Emperor. With Governor Tarkin's actions and the Emperor's death, I can't help but be a little afraid of what comes next. I've heard the stories of the Old Republic and the Jedi corruption, but I also know that Darth Deceptra murdered the royal family…"

"So, you've joined the Rebellion for revenge?" Crix asked. It always interested him in the motives of his men, especially junior officers. Here was, if the young man survived, the future leadership of the galaxy.

"Yes, sir; I'm sorry it isn't as noble as some of the other reasons the others are giving…"

Shaking his head, Crix corrected the man. "Don't apologize. Revenge is why I'm in this as well. I have no love for the Old Republic either, but I barely remember it. I was more concerned with my own home."

The ensign nodded and smiled. "Isn't that what it comes down to, sir? It isn't about galaxy-wide peace; it's about protecting your home and family. You can't take care of the galaxy's problems until you take care of the ones at home."

Crix decided right then that he liked this young officer and made a mental note to talk to the captain about having him reassigned to his personal staff.

"We must part ways here," Luke said. Both he and Soontir Fel were standing next to the _Lambda_-class shuttle that had been their home for the last few days since their escape. The shuttle was put down in the center of an old freighter graveyard on Corellia, one of thousands that dotted the planet now. "I have to go to Imperial Center; my duties as a Sith take precedence over anything here."

"I thought you wanted revenge on Tarkin," Fel said, hoping he could convince the younger man to stay. Luke had made it perfectly clear during their time together that with Tarkin's coup, their status had changed dramatically.

"I do, but my first duty is to my master…my mother," Luke commented. He saw Soontir nod slightly. "My mother favors you; I offer you the chance to come with me. You are a Hero of the Empire…"

"And my first duty is to protect the Empire's worlds, like Corellia. You are right, of course, as a Sith, you must return to Imperial Center." He sighed. "You are a brave man, Luke Skywalker."

Luke chuckled. "And you are a stubborn son of a bitch. This world is lost, Baron; in time, Tarkin will either subjugate it or destroy it and then your life will be wasted! What good is that? You have everything waiting you on Imperial Center. Power. Prestige. My mother."

"And you are so sure that this Lord Ravage, this son of Palpatine, is going to welcome you with open arms? How do you know he didn't kill the Emperor?" He shook his head and kicked at a rock. "If there is a line of succession, shouldn't it be your mother who takes the throne? Wasn't she the apprentice to the Emperor?"

Luke turned his head, unwilling to listen. Ever since they had landed and received news of Palpatine's death, he had been itching to leave. Only the patrols from the Death Star prevented them from leaving, but Luke had finally figured out their pattern and was confident he could get through them. "We will not get any answers here," he finally said.

"You're so hot to rush off into danger, you know that? From what I've been told, you have a lot of your father in you," Fel blurted out. Luke gave him a cold look, but said nothing. "This could be nothing more than a trap set up by Tarkin to draw you and your mother in. Have you talked with her?"

"I cannot reach her and she is too far away for me to contact through the Force," Luke said. Fel realized that the younger man was somehow ashamed that he did not have the power to do what had been so easy for Palpatine. He offered Fel one more chance to join him. "Come with me; don't throw your life away!"

"Stay with me and make a difference," Fel replied. "This is the Empire, too!"

"Not my Empire. Let Tarkin have this world for now; we will return…"

Fel laughed and threw his head back. "With what? Your lightsaber? That's a moon-sized battle station up there, Skywalker! All of the ship's in the Imperial fleet couldn't put a dent in that thing!"

"Do not underestimate the power of the Force," Luke warned him. 

Fel threw up his hands. "Fine! Go to Imperial Center! Be a first class Sith flunky! I thought the New Order was about protecting the people, not pursuing personal glory!"

Luke laughed this time. "Go protect you people, Fel. Go!"

Fel felt the presence enter his mind and he had no choice but to turn and start running. He didn't stop until two hours later when Luke had jumped into hyperspace, leaving his former commanding officer alone on a dying world.

Fel blinked and sunlight burned its way into his brain, revitalizing his senses and reminding him of the pain he was in. He remembered being attacked after he had stupidly answered to his name and rank. He should have known he would have been recognized; his face had been put everywhere on his home planet. More people on Corellia knew what Soontir Fel looked like than knew the face of the Emperor.

He sniffed the air and realized he was underground, but the scent of spiced cakes was heavy in the air as well. He hadn't had real Corellian fare in such a long time that his stomach began to dance from the memories the odors conjured. He sat up and realized that he was in a cell. From the sounds coming from above, he guessed he was under a restaurant. 

He had made his way to a nearby settlement and discovered that except for area frequented by the Imperials, most of the town was poverty-stricken and destitute. From the conversations, he gathered that the rebellion was not so string here and only a token force of security police was kept to maintain the peace. 

Fel had seen a broken people when he looked upon his fellow Corellians. The spirit of individuality that had made them famous in the galaxy was missing from the citizens of this small hamlet. People were begging in the streets and all of the businesses, save for those that again served the Imperials, were boarded up and abandoned. This particular town used to produce many components for hyperdrives, but with all of the shipbuilding contracts going to Kuat and Seinar, there was nothing for these people to do except slowly starve.

"Well, well, we got us a real hero," a voice said. Fel recognized it as the one that had called to him before the assault. It belonged to a Bothan with tan colored fur. Behind him stood two more of the feline-like aliens. Bothans were strongly suspected of collaborating with the Rebel Alliance, but Imperial Intelligence had not been able to gather enough information to make any worthwhile arrests yet.

"I demand to be released," Fel said half-heartedly. He didn't believe they would, but there was no sense in not trying. "I am an Imperial officer…"

"Which is exactly why we've locked you up, human," the Bothan leader told him with a feral grin. 

Fel shrugged. "Fine. Are you going to torture me, because if you are, just forget it. I don't know anything and I'm not very valuable anymore."

"Oh, I don't know about that," another voice said. Fel felt the chills run down his spine. The voice carried the same accent that his wife had used when she wasn't in front of the holocams. 

Wedge Antilles, dressed in the clothes of a farmer, stepped out from behind the burly Bothan guards and faced his brother-in-law. "Soontir."

"Wedge."

Wedge took in a deep breath. "You understand that I have orders to kill you if you don't cooperate."

Fel cocked his head to the side. "How is it that someone who never saw fit to join the military could be taking orders? That requires some sort of commitment to something besides the almighty credit."

"Is that what you think? You think I'm some sort of smuggler? Did my sister ever bother to tell you that I was the one helping keep the family business afloat?"

Fel stood up and approached the bars of his cell. "Oh, she told me alright, Antilles! There is no honor in supporting a dying cause! Don't forget it was her money that was really keeping that business up and running."

"I've got an idea, how about I come in that cell and kick your ass?" Wedge asked as he stepped forward.

Fel looked at him and then shook his head. "Does everyone hate me so much for doing my duty? Is it so wrong that I truly believe in the New Order?"

"Have you seen what your New Order has done? Corellia is a ghost town, brother-in-law…a ghost town being turned into a battlefield. All of this in the name of your precious New Order. I can't believe my sister bought into your garbage! I can't believe she was so stupid…ack!"

Faster than thought, Fel reached through the bars, grabbed Wedge's shirt and pulled him against the bars. He put his face up to the Rebel's and spoke very slowly. "Say what you want about me, about my government and about my principles. Call me every name in the book; torture me all you want. But…if you ever say anything poor about my wife again, I'll tear your intestines out through your nose."

"Brave words for Deceptra's whore," Wedge sneered.

"Am I not allowed to start over?" Fel asked as he released Wedge. The Bothans merely looked on, enjoying the spectacle the two humans presented. "I don't see a black band on your arm," Fel remarked, indicating that Wedge was no longer in mourning either.

"She's the Emperor's concubine!"

"Was."

"She's evil!"

"People can change!"

"Prove it!" Wedge countered. "Show me that I'm wrong and that the Empire isn't made up of idiots and droid-brains! Corellia is as much your world as it is mine."

Fel laughed. "What? Join your rebellion? Are you insane? I took an oath to the Emperor; what good is a man who can't keep his word?" Fel went over to the small sink and splashed water on his face. Corellia was too damn hot in the summer he thought.

"What good is your word when innocent people die? Have you seen your homeworld?" Fel responded that he was here to try and help, but he would only do it with Imperial forces. Wedge spit on the floor. "You know…this was her home once as well."

Fel looked away as the tears began to burn. There were too many things here reminding him of the woman he had loved, too many smells and sounds that spoke of a life that could have been. In that moment, he realized how much he missed his wife.

His attraction to Deceptra could not fill the void in his heart, not completely at least. His desire to do the right thing was overwhelming his sense of duty and somewhere deep inside, he came to a decision. 

He did believe in the New Order, but it had become perverted by men like Tarkin. Tarkin probably killed the Emperor and even Fel wasn't so blind with loyalty that he did not realize that Palpatine had been part of the problem as well. Nobody saw what the real New Order represented and the only way he could prove it wasn't wrong was by setting the example.

"Fine. I want a commission," Fel said.

"Right," Wedge said rolling his eyes.

Fel ignored him and spoke to the lead Bothan in his native tongue. "I want to speak with Garm Bel Iblis. Do it or kill me now."

The Bothan eyed his companions and then nudged his head. One of the guards left to set up the meeting. Though Wedge was there on orders, the Bothans had their own as well.

Wedge saw the exchange and then turned to his brother-in-law. His emotions were boiling over. This was the man his sister had loved…passionately. What was it about him that bonded them so? Through him, could Wedge find a missing piece of his sister? 

He couldn't answer the questions and he didn't know where to get the answers. All he knew was that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't figure out how he felt about the man in front of him.


	28. Chapter 27

Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior

By Christopher W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2003 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2003 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.

**CHAPTER 27**

"Mara?" Talon said as he poked his head into the office of the base supply officer. Mara looked up from her noteputer and threw back her hair. She was looking better, he decided, or possibly she was learning to internalize her rage. 

"Talon," she said with a smile, beckoning him to enter. He did so, nodding an acknowledgement to Threepio, who was busy arguing with a military procurement droid. The smuggler took a seat and gave the office a quick glance. It was sparse in furnishings, Mara having sold most of her possessions on the black market via Xizor's connections. Chandrillan artifacts were, despite the civil war, bringing in high value with collectors.

"I understand that Tarkin's forces have taken control of Sluis Van," she said as she handed over a flimsy printout. "That means spare parts for any Sorosub fighters or ships are going to be hard to come by."

Talon nodded and handed back the form. "I understand that there's been a formal evacuation order."

She nodded and turned to him. He noted that she was wearing her sidearm again. She hadn't been seen without it since Chandrilla. "Admiral Harkov and Rear Admiral Ackbar have received a signal from one of our spies. We're putting together a fleet to head there now."

Talon was fully aware of it all especially since he had been heavily involved on procuring the equipment needed to outfit star destroyers for handling X-Wing fighters. Admiral Harkov had been working with the Rebellion for many months, starting his relationship simply as a way to secure a better retirement than an Imperial pension offered. Tarkin's revolt and the Emperor's death had forced the reluctant admiral to choose sides. In the three-way war, only the Rebellion offered him the chance to escape execution if they were victorious.

Ackbar was something else entirely. A member of the Mon Calamari race, he had been put into Imperial bondage as many of his species had. Extremely intelligent, he had been assigned as the personal valet of then Moff Tarkin, where he was privy to many sessions of Imperial tactics. Freed through the efforts of the Rebellion, he had become not only one of the highest ranking rebel officers, but also the preferred expert on Tarkin's methods.

The civil war that was erupting was not so much and explosion of civil disobedience as it was more of a slow military build-up. Where the Rebels had expected and even hoped for the complete erosion of military order, they had borne witness to almost nothing. Instead of shoot-outs at every garrison post, the military of the New Order was slowly dividing into separate camps in preparation for the coming struggle.

Planetary governments were swearing allegiance to either Tarkin or this new Lord Ravage, whomever he was, with the occasional world, such as Kessel opting to join the Rebellion. "I guess we'll be leaving then," he said, probing her for a response. Would she now sever their relationship with Mon Mothma dead? 

"Not all of us," she said, a look of concern on her face. "Chewbacca has been missing for twelve hours; so has Malakie. The security chief thinks they might have been killed by a jungle predator." She didn't sound convinced. "I was just getting ready to head out to look for them. Chewie needs to come with us, but Malakie will have to make his own decision." Her tone betrayed nothing and neither did her green eyes.

"I'll have the _Wilde Karrde _prepped…"

"No, we'll go by foot, following the path out to the temples. Threepio will come with us as well," she said. Talon wasn't too happy about that, but he was more concerned about the missing Wookie. He knew that Chewbacca had gone off to see what Malakie was up to, but he wasn't aware that the big Wookie had not returned. 

Mara looked away and Talon unrepentantly found himself saying what he felt. "Are you in love with Malakie?"

She froze in mid-turn. Her shoulders stiffened and he wondered if perhaps his tongue had gotten him in more trouble he could possibly handle. She turned back to him and her youthful features suddenly seemed much older. There was a look of pure fury to her eyes that then suddenly disappeared. 

If anything, her time with the Rebellion had taught her to cool the fiery temper she was better known for. When she spoke, her tone was polite but cold. "Mr. Karrde," she began, the title making him feel as old as the Emperor, "perhaps its time that you and I discussed the terms of our relationship. " He started to speak but then he felt a slight stab at his brain as she used her nascent Force powers to silence him. He was thankful she wasn't fully trained. "While my mother and Prince Xizor have had nothing but compliments for your honesty, integrity and ability to perform under pressure, and while I have found you to be a good, loyal friend, I have no interest in sharing my personal life with you." She stood up and sat on the corner of her desk and ordered Threepio and the other droid out of the room. When they were alone she looked down at Talon. "I know how you think you feel about me, but whatever those emotions are will pass in time."

He wanted to disagree with her but he felt like it was the wrong thing to do. She leaned in closer, her voice hypnotic. "You are not in love with me. People who care about me get hurt."

A buzzing seemed to be filling his brain and Talon shook his head vigorously. Suddenly, his embarrassment was replaced by anger. "Don't ever do that again," he said, his voice deep. "I wasn't aware you knew how to do that."

Mara gave no hint if she was surprised; she only shrugged at his comment. "It's easier this way. My entire life is nothing now, except whatever future I can make for myself."

"That doesn't give you the right to violate my thoughts," Talon responded, realizing now that there was a side to Mara Mothma he had not even imagined. Was this the reason why she was attracted to Malakie? Was there so very much more to the alien that Talon had guessed.

"There are so many things about me that you do not know, Talon, things that I'm not quite sure of myself." She sighed and returned back to her chair and punched in some commands into her computer. When information began to scroll onto the screen, she handed it over.

Talon didn't look until her eyes indicated he was supposed to. He scanned the information, taking it in slowly. Normally, he would be able to absorb such data in a matter of seconds, a skill most smugglers acquired over time. 

It appeared to be a standard blood sample and DNA profile. It was routine procedure for anyone reporting to the base to go through one to ensure that they were not carrying any type of biological contaminants or were faking their identity for Imperial purposes. The name at the top read "Mara Mothma" and listed her planet of origin as Chandrilla. Most of the information was unexceptional. "You are not pregnant," he said with sarcasm, though he did not that she was taking a standard birth control chemical. It was not one native to Chandrilla and it told him that she might have been sexually active since she arrived on Yavin.

"Look at the discrepancy notes," she said, leaning forward and placed her elbows on her knees. 

Talon went further down the report to the section and read the comments placed there by the medical droid and further investigated by the base medical officer. It indicated a high midi-chlorian level, which Talon had learned in recent weeks was a measure of Jedi ability. Malakie's blood sample had been unreadable for the level because his blood had properties that made it too alien for the equipment.

After that was something very odd. "According to this, your blood make-up doesn't relate to either of your parents." Over the centuries scientists had discovered that environmental factors such as gravity and diet could effect the specific composition of human blood. Because humans had populated so many planets, it became somewhat easy to determine what someone's true planet of birth was. "You have some characteristics of Chandrilla, but you carry a specific blood anomaly associated with persons from the Merfson Corridor."

Talon rubbed his beard while Mara told him what she had learned. "The Merfson Corridor is the name of a series of planets that inhabit the region between the Corporate Sector and some Outer Territories. A high number of Jedi Knights came from some of the worlds there. They were considered unique because they were some of the very few Jedi that were not only allowed to marry, but to also have children."

She looked away, like she was trying to peer into the past. "For whatever reason, my mother chose to hide the truth from me. My past is a lie. Why did she refuse to tell me?" Tears were now starting to form and Talon realized the personal torture that Mara had to have been putting herself through over the past few weeks.

With Chandrilla gone and Bail Organna dead, there was nobody to tell Mara who she really was. She had nobody to truly turn to in the Rebellion, as she was something of a freak. The medical officer and medical droids were sworn to secrecy regarding her midi-chlorian level.

She had nobody to share her pain with except Malakie, who also had Force-ability. In the midst of tragedy, she had found a kindred spirit and the two of them were able to share something that Talon could never understand. "I didn't know…"

"I appreciate your feelings for me, but we are far too different, Talon. My destiny is with the Rebellion now, though I don't really know why I stay. It was my mother's…my mother's dream, not mine."

Talon was still at a loss for words. She stood up and adjusted her gun belt and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "We are friends, that's all."

_Friends don't try to influence their friend's minds_, he thought to himself. He swore then to discover some way to counteract such things as Jedi mind-tricks.

"I've got something on my scanner," Boba said silently. His helmet mike relayed the information to his father, who was several meters away in another tree. "Two humans and a droid."

Jango acknowledge the information and continued to scan the temple area with the multiple lenses of his helmet. The main courtyard of the area was disturbed, as if a battle had taken place. An earlier reconnaissance had brought about the discovery of blood and two Wookie arms. No doubt Mothma's bodyguard's.

"It might be our target; do you want me to intercept?" Boba asked, tightening his grip on his rifle. He changed the setting for kill. 

Jango detected the anxiousness in his son's voice. "Negative. Let's bring them into the temple area if that is where they are heading. The unique construction will prevent any blaster fire from being detected by the Rebels." The last thing Jango wanted was a troop of Rebel soldiers crashing out of the jungle on top of them.

 "Yes, father," Boba responded, not happy at all. He felt his father was being too cautious now. He didn't doubt his father's bravery, but all of the sneaking around in the jungle was wearing on the younger bounty hunter's nerves.

Moments later, Mara, Talon and Threepio passed underneath Boba's position. He took them in with a trained eye, noting that both humans were armed, Talon carrying an especially nasty looking Imperial rapid-fire personal assault weapon. His target he noted was a fine looking specimen, especially in the black flight suit she chose to wear. It was a shame to think that someone so pretty would end up most likely dead at the hands of Lord Ravage, Tarkin or perhaps even Boba himself. 

That really wasn't any of his concern though and he informed his father of the defenses of the search party. Jango told him to begin making his way towards the temples. "Once you're here, we'll stun the man, shoot the droid and take the woman."

Behind the Mandalorian helmet, Boba Fett smiled.


	29. Chapter 28

Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior

By Christopher W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2003 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2003 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.

**CHAPTER 28**

The woman had once been Padme Amidala squinted in the glare of the twin suns of the desert planet. The Force was with her, but even it could not change the natural reflexes of her eye. Luckily, her artificial one could adjust so that she could "see" even looking directly into the Twins. The construct of Imperial science allowed her to see in several different spectrums, but right now all she wanted to do was watch the distant solar activity and remember.

Over two decades before, she had traveled her with Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi when she had been running from the Trade Federation. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had been good Jedi Knights; even the Emperor had respected their skill and ability. Stuck here without a way to repair their hyperdrive, Qui-Gon and Padme had traveled into the small desert community of Mos Espa to try and find parts. In a junk shop owned by a creature named Watto, Padme had first met the young boy named Anakin Skywalker.

Anakin later revealed that he knew at that precise moment that he was going to one day marry her, but she hadn't believed it. A decade later as Darth Vader, he had seduced her and she had fallen head over heels in love with him. Together they had seen the beauty and correctness of Palpatine's New Order. Only Darth Maul's jealousy and Bail Organna's treachery prevented them from ever being truly happy.

After Anakin's death, Padme had been transformed into Deceptra, the Dark Lady of the Sith and loyal apprentice to the Emperor. She had awakened from her coma to find herself with new bionic limbs, a shard of the Kaiburr Crystal embedded in her chest and a child growing in her belly. 

There was supposed to be two children she now knew.

In order to have a piece of the woman he lusted after from afar, Bail Organna had violated Deceptra in a way that went beyond the concepts of rape. In contrast, she would have preferred rape by a thousand Hutts to what she now endured. Since learning the truth, there had been a gnawing sensation at the back of her mind, a sensation that only grew when Palpatine had been killed. Not that she really cared anymore; the relationship between her and her master had been somehow changed when she learned of Organna's betrayal. A part of her told her that the Emperor should have known and that maybe he had all along.

Now she had to decide whether or not to see this Lord Ravage, whose voice called to her in the Force, but was unable to penetrate the defenses she put up with the aid of the Kaiburr Crystal. She suspected that this was another of Palpatine's tricks and was not about to waste time trying to figure it out. In her dreams, Deceptra saw herself on the throne of the Empire.

She almost laughed; the former senator from Naboo she once was would never have desired such lofty office. The Dark Side had shown her, though, that the only way to ensure peace and security was through force and fear.

"So, you're the bitch that killed my father," Leia said as she stepped through the ferrocrete archway into the small stadium. This was normally reserved for droid battles, once the foremost entertainment of the workers for the Death Star that were stationed here.

Deceptra held her emotions in check and turned around slowly. She unhooked her black cape and let it fall to the brown sand at her feet, revealing that she was nearly 100% human again. "Leia, how kind of you to meet me."

The Alderaanian princess approached. She was wearing a white jumpsuit that was reminiscent of the fashion Padme Amidala had been fond of. "I'm not afraid of you," Leia said, her hand patting the sporting blaster at her hip. 

"I don't care of you are or not," Deceptra replied. "Your fear is inconsequential, your compliance is all that I require. You are a fugitive from Imperial justice and a traitor; I am here to take you to justice."

"In case you haven't heard, you aren't at the top of the food chain anymore. Palpatine is dead and Lord Ravage is too busy worrying whether or not Tarkin is going to blow up Imperial Center." Leia stopped several meters from the Dark Lady. "It might be justice that comes for you, Sith."

"You have no idea what that word means," Deceptra said, measuring up her daughter. Close inspection did reveal many traditional Naboo features; features that were often confused with those of Alderaanian descent. There was Anakin's fire to her eyes and tone, though.

"Oh, I know much more than realize," Leia responded. "I am an apprentice to the Jedi Master Quinlan Vos. The Force is with me."

The red eye in Deceptra's skull glowed as it did a midi-chlorian scan. It seemed that Leia had inherited some her father's strength as well. She was not Luke's level in raw ability but that could change given time. The name Quinlan Vos meant nothing to her, but that was not surprising. The Emperor's operatives killed many Jedi Masters while Deceptra had lain in coma. "You are untrained."

"And I'm not alone."

Deceptra felt the surge in the Force as Ferrin and Kyp leapt over the stadium walls on opposite sides. Their lightsabers were activated and Deceptra wondered where her stormtroopers were. They had been taken out slowly, most likely put to sleep with Jedi mind tricks. Clever, but nothing for her to worry about. 

"Ferrin Durron, it has been so very long," Deceptra said in greeting. She pulled her own lightsaber from her belt and activated it. The blade was purple this time. The Dark Lady had a large collection of weapons she had taken from various Jedi. 

"Senator," Ferrin replied.

"Ah, still clinging to the past I see." She stretched and Ferrin noted that the years had been extremely kind to the former senator. Her form was exactly the way it had been before and her face, with the exception of the red eye that now dimmed to look normal in the sunlight, had not changed at all. "The person you speak of has long since died."

Ferrin shook his head and pointed to his temple. "You forget whose memories are locked in my brain." He saw that the statement had slightly rattled her and he pressed the initiative. "Every day, I hear his words echoing in my mind, a result of when I tried to subvert his will all of those years ago. It tainted me and I'm afraid my son has inherited a little of it."

Kyp smirked and waved his lightsaber. "A boy?" Deceptra said, trying to regain control. Her comment didn't seem to faze Kyp, though. There was a look in his eyes that she recognized when she reviewed battle-hardened Imperial troops. His youth was simply covering, a face that he wore. The mind that radiated in the Force was mature in most respects except one. 

It was subtle for the boy's control over his emotions was near perfect. He had been trained very well, but his desires could not be hidden. As much as the boy did not want to admit it, he had a simple crush on Leia. "A boy with a secret love," she said in warning.

Kyp caught the warning and his stance softened as embarrassment, the greatest fear of any teenager, ate away at his resolve. "Tell me little man, have you shared your secret with the others."

"Shut up," Ferrin said and his look told Deceptra he was fully aware of his son's attraction to Leia. 

"Don't try to confuse us with your riddles, Sith-witch," Leia spat out. She went for her blaster but Deceptra called the weapon to her before Leia could draw it. On fingers of the Force, it fell into Deceptra's hand. "I'm not impressed. You killed my father. You are going to die."

"Revenge is a very useful thing, but only in the right hands and for the right reasons, little padawan," Deceptra said as she used the Force to crush the weapon into a small ball of useless junk. She allowed it to drop to the sand and then stepped away from it as if it radiated dangerous radiation.

Deceptra knew that her stormtroopers had not been killed; they were close enough that she would have felt their deaths. They could not stay asleep forever and once they started to revive, the odds would be more in her favor.

The Jedi would have to die, but Leia would be a large problem by herself. Deceptra was determined to take the young woman alive. She would not be denied her heritage any longer. "Have you learned the truth yet, padawan?" Deceptra sneered.

"All I know is that my father's only crime was loving you, you heartless cow!" Leia cried out as she launched herself at Deceptra. Ferrin called out a warning and Kyp tried to reach out with the Force to pull her back, but Leia's rage was too strong and the young Jedi did not have the time to compensate. Leia landed a hard right on Deceptra's jaw and the Dark Lady responded with an outstretched hand. A wave of the Force picked Leia up and threw her across the stadium. She landed hard in the sand and rolled towards a ferrocrete barrier.

Both Ferrin and Kyp saw an opening with Leia out of the way and they rushed Deceptra. Two lightsabers came crashing down only to be met by Deceptra's own blade. The crackling of the blades as they engaged drowned out the grunts of exertion. Ferrin could not believe the strength of the former Naboo senator but guessed that her new limbs were filled with bionics.

She pushed them back and slashed hard, forcing them immediately on the defensive. They were both competent swordsmen, she saw, but there was something wrong. It was almost as if they weren't used battling against another Jedi. Their moves and reactions seemed almost alien to the ways she had studied.

"You have grown strong in the Force, Padme," Ferrin said, blowing away the sweat on his lip. Kyp danced away from a thrust and added two quick swipes. Deceptra back-flipped away and used the Force to grab hold of the crush pistol. The ball of metal flew, a deadly missile at Kyp and she saw the young Jedi smile as it approached. He stabbed it out of the air with his blade.

"The name is Deceptra, Jedi; remember it well for it is the name of the person who will send you to hell," she said as the two again approached. Leia moaned and sat up and started to shake off the effects if her tumble.

"Funny, Anakin never knew that name," Ferrin added just as he leapt over Deceptra, trying to cleave her in half. It was only a half-hearted attack and Deceptra began to wonder what their exact plan was. The Jedi appeared to have different motives than Leia.

"Come, Leia, come ask your Jedi friends why they are not trying to kill me," Deceptra taunted. 

Kyp glanced at his father. Ferrin didn't say anything but looked back to Deceptra. "You are correct, Padme, we are not trying to kill you."

Leia made her way to the standoff and looked at Ferrin. "Is that why you came with me?"

Kyp spoke this time. "Jedi do not murder, they do not give in to hate or the need for revenge."

"What do you know…boy?" Leia gasped. 

Kyp gave her a cold stare and deactivated his lightsaber. "I saw my mother die at the hands of the Vong. I watched every human except me and my father either sacrificed to their gods or made into a slave."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Deceptra asked, wondering what was going on. "Leia, do not listen to them. It is a Jedi mind-trick!"

"Since when do you care about people from Alderaan?" Leia asked.

"I don't. It is time you started hearing the truth," Deceptra started.

"The truth is that you were once a good, kind person," Ferrin started, turning off his own lightsaber. "We believe with the Emperor dead, you can be saved."

Deceptra laughed. "Saved? Oh, yes, the Jedi concept of charity to the enemy! Where were you to save Anakin Skywalker?"

"What happened to your husband was wrong, Padme, but was it worth subjugating an entire galaxy?" Ferrin shook his head. "Was it worth killing a man like Bail Organna, a man who was once your political ally!"

"And my father!" Leia said stepping forward, her fists again clenched in fury.

"No! He was not your father!" Deceptra growled, slashing the air with her lightsaber. "Quit saying that!"

Leia screamed back. "Yes he was! You killed him!"

"Your father was my husband! Anakin Skywalker is your father!" Deceptra stepped forward, her voice an octave lower. "I…am…your…mother."

"By the Force," Ferrin whispered and suddenly the pieces feel into place. He saw it now, the uncanny resemblance and he realized that he had overlooked the obvious. Kyp was dumbfounded too, but Leia was shaking her head. "No…no! It's not true!"

Deceptra held out her gloved hand. "The Emperor is dead. It is time to have a woman's perspective on the New Order. Join me, Leia, and we will rule the galaxy as mother and daughter."

"I'll never join you," Leia said as she searched her feelings for the truth. It made no sense whatsoever, but she couldn't deny that it felt right. Was it the Force reaching out to her? Was her real father reaching out to her?

Ferrin turned to his son. "Now."

Kyp nodded and dropped his lightsaber. Closing his eyes, he opened himself completely to the Force. Deceptra and Leia both felt it, a surge of power as Kyp removed the psychic dampers he had been forced to employ since returning to this galaxy.

In the universe they had come from, the Jedi were cut off from the Force; all of them except Kyp, the child of two Jedi who was so strong that he could use the Force in a place far, far away. Kyp had always known he was different, but he didn't realize just how much until his encounter with the TIE fighters.

Kyp pulled and yanked on the Force and pushed it down through the planet. Green plants, their seeds dormant for millions of years, suddenly sprang to life around the boy as he focused his mind's eye on the Kaiburr Crystal. It called to him, the shard did, in a song of life, light and joy. The Crystal was a double-edged sword and the side not being used by Deceptra wanted to be free.

Deceptra cried out in pain as she realized that she suddenly became nothing; Kyp was communicating directly with the Crystal and her own Force ability was too minor to compete. Kyp grabbed hold of the shard and whispered to it in a voice of color and through it, he saw images of the life of Padme Amidala. 

Any time the true person on the inside tried to come out, the wet blanket of the Dark Side was dropped onto her soul and there was the taste of the Emperor in the sights. Kyp was unprepared for the emotions of passion for Anakin, motherly love for Luke, outrage towards Bail Organna and loathing of Palpatine. Padme Amidala had become that which she hated and her hate grew every day. 

Then came the guilt. The deaths and murders, the lies and treachery, the evil that had turned an idealistic young woman from Naboo into a pitiful creature that had to kill in order to feel anything. "Free me," the voice called, a childlike quality to it. Kyp wasn't sure how for this was so different from what he had done before. He was used to using his abilities to destroy minds in battle or to tear out information. 

"Tell me how," he responded and the music grew and he saw the Force as it truly was with eyes made of emotion behind tears of light. Other voices called to him, one of them with a small chuckle to it. 

"She wants to be free; free my love, please," the voice said.

"Who are you?" Kyp cried out into the Force.

"Someone who loves them both. Let me add my strength to you," it offered.

"No! I have to do it myself!"

"Pride will destroy you," the voice warned him.

"I am a warrior of the Jedi; I cannot fail," Kyp said, diving deeper into the Force. He could not hear the voice now, but he could listen to the midi-chlorians as they chattered between each other in his own body. They seemed overjoyed by his presence and he felt a strange desire to just stay here where he was.

Then he caught the link.

The Crystal shard flew out of Deceptra's chest and whirled into Kyp's hand. The young Jedi stood in a field of green grass that stretched out well beyond the stadium. In the distance, sand dunes were being transformed as the Kyp's power, magnified a thousand fold by the shard, brought a new balance to the Force. All of the death and destruction of Deceptra and the New Order was being equalized as Tatooine was turned into something else. Plants, genetically designed to thrive in the heat grew as millions of years of evolution occurred in minutes.

Deceptra fell into a field of grasses and flowers, her lightsaber, ruined along with others, falling smoking from her hand.

Kyp stumbled forward and fell on his knees. Ferrin was there immediately. "I never imagined…"

Kyp shook his head. "Not me, not completely. Someone else, someone strong in the Force was there." He turned to Leia, who looked to be in complete shock. "I think it was her father."

Ferrin merely shook his head and pulled his son close.

They had won. 


	30. Chapter 29

Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior

By Christopher W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2003 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2003 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.

**CHAPTER 29**

Luke was slightly surprised that he was granted almost immediate entry into the Imperial Center military defense zone. His _Lambda_-class shuttle was not harrassed as he followed the flight path sent to him by flight control. No escort came along side to verify that he wasn't some suicidal zealot out to kill the new emperor.

There could only be one reason for that: the Force. Lord Ravage had sensed Luke through the Force and was allowing him an audience. The chain of events puzzled the young Sith. His first loyalties were to his mother and the Emperor, but Palpatine was now dead and who was he to avenge the man? Perhaps his death was the result of trial by combat, the ancient Sith method of ascension. In that ritual, Palpatine would have been given the choice of combat or abdication, but either way his rule was challenged.

If this Lord Ravage was a Sith, then who trained him Luke wondered. He had been taught that the principle of "one master and one apprentice" was not the absolute rule of the Sith, but more of something that had become a forced tradition. Palpatine wanted to break away from that, to create a new society of Sith practitioners with himself at the head.

Perhaps Ravage was one of those whom Palpatine recruited and had in turn betrayed his benefactor. Luke wasn't sure, but he was determined to find out. His desire for revenge against Tarkin was great, but he felt as if he didn't know the entire plan and his next move had to come from here, this place of darkness. 

He was directed to the landing pad normally reserved for his mother and was surprised to not see her personal TIE fighter sitting there. It meant she had not returned to Imperial Center, but then he wasn't sure what her exact orders were. During his trip to Imperial Center from Corellia, he had managed to get a fix on her personal fleet, surprised to find it out in orbit over Tatooine. When he tried to contact the flagship, he was ignored, no doubt a prudent security precaution given the civil unrest. Luke could only imagine how many people would try to pose as him to get through to his mother. He was after all trying to call from a common shuttle!

Luke shut down the shuttle and lowered the entry ramp. He ran a hand though his long brown hair and picked up his lightsaber, clipping it to his belt. He was clad in the black uniform of a pilot with a Death Star forces patch on the shoulder. He had thought of taking the patch off but he was afraid of ruining the sleeve and he was not going to confront Ravage looking like a vagabond.

Four Crimson Guardsmen awaited Luke. They were the private bodyguard of the Emperor and of they had assigned their loyalty to Ravage that spoke volumes about his ability and influence. Luke decided that for once it would be best not to rush into the situation, but to be subtle in the way of Palpatine. He would meet this Ravage and see of he could understand exactly what was going on.

None of the Guardsmen said anything, but then they didn't have to. Everyone on the platform knew why Luke was there and words would have been nothing more than useless ceremony. He fell in between the four escorts and they marched away from the pad and into the castle of the Emperor.

Luke noted that there was a true military presence within the castle. Technicians moved with discipline and he guessed that there had been some thinning of the ranks because many stations were unmanned. He also noted that the stormtroopers within the castle were wearing redesigned armor, black where it was white, red where it had been black. It gave the elite soldiers an almost demon-like appearance.

Then Luke understood that he had stepped into hell and Ravage was sitting on the throne. Through the Force he could feel the difference from the way it used to be. There were not the subtle messages of compliance whispering to you; instead you could feel the presence of Lord Ravage. He did not hide, he did not shirk; he wanted everyone who entered this place to know he was watching.

Luke found it to be a very effective method of control for he found himself guarding even his own thoughts.

"Welcome, young Skywalker, please enter and be received," Ravage said from his throne. Luke stepped away from the four escorts and immediately was drawn to the bloodstain on the marble floor. He could sense Palpatine's fading presence from the stain. "Yes, that is where your Emperor fell to me in battle." Ravage stood up and stepped down from the dais. He was clad in black and silver robes and a lightsaber hung loosely from his waist. "Do you wish to dispute this fact?"

Luke's hand drifted towards his own weapon. "I'm not sure yet."

"An honest answer; I like that. There are too many people in Palpatine's government that are too used to saying what they believe he wanted to hear." He smiled broadly. "I had to kill all of them."

Luke chuckled, silently agreeing with the method. He had no patience for sycophants. "Have you contacted my mother?"

Ravage shook his head slowly. "She is not a true Sith."

Luke unhooked his lightsaber but did not ignite it. "My mother is the Dark Apprentice…"

"No. I am the Dark Lord and I decide who my apprentice is. Your mother was never anything more than Palpatine's whore." Luke activated his weapon and swung, but Ravage blocked it easily. His own crimson blade deflecting the blow. The lightsaber had an oddly curved handle and Luke recognized it as the weapon he had been told Count Dooku had used.

"You defend a woman not worth defending. Toss away this loyalty to a woman undeserving of it!" Ravage said as he continued to ward off Luke's wild swings. "Women are meant to be bedded, not followed! In time, you will learn that the Dark Side is most powerful between a woman's thighs for it is the ruin of a good man!"

Luke reached with the Force and grabbed a Force-pike out of a Guardsman's hand. The Guardsman fell forward but none of the bodyguard made an effort to interfere. Luke used the Force to direct the weapon towards Ravage, but the Dark Lord halted it in mid-air with his own willpower. "You don't believe me, but in your heart you suspect it is true."

Luke tried to push the Force-pike further but it was like attacking a brick wall with a spoon. There was real power behind the eyes of Ravage; eyes that suddenly took on a familiar radiance. "Yes, you start to understand," Ravage cooed. "I am a genetic offspring…"

"Clone, you mean," Luke snapped.

Ravage smiled but still held the Force-pike in place with barely even a thought though Luke was pushing with all of his will. "Use whatever term you wish, but the result is the same. Palpatine sought immortality and he wanted to use your mother to create a vessel for his essence."

"Then what are you?" Luke asked, sweat running down his face.

"An embarrassment," Ravage responded. "Just as you are to your mother."

"That's not true!"

"Then why did she shuttle you off into the military instead of making you here immediate second-in-command? Perhaps it was because of your sister?" Ravage waved his hand and a far wall descended into the floor, revealing a large monitor. The monitor had a frozen image on it.

Luke cast a glance over and recognized from the symbols at the bottom that it was the transmission of an Imperial probe droid. "The Emperor trusted nobody and he left many spies on the various Imperial worlds, designed to respond to any unusual transmissions. This particular one picked up a conversation between a stormtrooper detachment and your mother on the surface of the world."

The video began and Luke watched as Leia and two Jedi Knights attacked Deceptra, but his mother seemed able to handle the situation. As the scene progressed, Deceptra taunted them and then the unthinkable happened. Deceptra offered to rule the galaxy with Leia!

The Force-pike fell to the floor with a clatter and Luke deactivated his lightsaber, letting it hang loosely from his hand. His sweat was cold now and he felt himself shivering as if the temperature had suddenly been dropped. Before he knew it, Ravage was next to him. "Did you not understand? You remind her of what she lost and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get you to measure up to your father. Palpatine knew this, but he did nothing about it. That was always his problem, never wanting to get involved."

Luke looked at him, a tear falling down his face. Ravage continued speaking. "I know these things because I have many of Palpatine's memories. I know his frustrations and his endless quests to preserve his life. It was all that he cared about; he had no desire to serve the Force, no want to be a true Dark Lord. He refused to understand that being subservient to the Dark Side comes before all else."

"She betrayed me for her?" Luke whispered. "She chose my sister…"

"It happens, but you must not dwell upon it. Take your anger and internalize it, use it for what it truly is, the key for unlocking the door to real power!" Ravage grabbed Luke by the shoulders and whirled him around. "You have been trained, but what have you been taught?"

"I don't understand," Luke said.

"And that is why you are not a true Sith. Any primate can wield a lightsaber or profess to be a servant of order, but only a Sith can understand what it all means. Become my apprentice, Luke Skywalker, and we will not just rule the galaxy, we will be the galaxy."

Luke started to answer, but then turned back to look at the frozen video. There was his mother, reaching out to Leia and he felt his heart breaking. He had always maintained his loyalty to his mother, never questioned her methods or her reasons for anything. Yet, the first chance she had gotten she had traded him off for his sister. 

He looked up at Ravage. "Tell me what I must do…master."

"I'm honored that you have agreed to this meeting," Garm Bel Iblis said with a small nod of his head towards the hologram of Admiral Thrawn. The Imperial officer appeared to return the gesture, but the fuzziness of the transmission kept the Rebel leader from knowing for sure.

The meeting had been arranged through a network of spies and Thrawn had actually been expecting it ever since Tarkin's announcement. It would be a boon to the Rebels to get every flag officer they could. Bel Iblis seemed to sense Thrawn's thoughts. "You are considered something of a maverick in the Imperial forces, not your everyday officer."

Thrawn betrayed nothing but remained motionless. "I am an alien of high rank in a xenophobic society; the fact that I am even alive does testify to my natural survivor instinct. You are also something of a renegade, Senator."

"Guilty as charged, but Corellians are not known for conforming to the rules," Bel Iblis responded. He was seated in his private cabin onboard the _Corellian Star, a self-proclaimed blockade runner with more modifications than any smuggler's vessel in Black Sun. "I'm sure by now your technicians have traced our routing signal."_

"Actually, I'm not worried about your whereabouts. In case you haven't heard, there has been a situation that has developed in the Empire. I'm only taking this while my fleet forms up for the jump into hyperspace." There was a pause. "To what do I owe this call? Do you wish to surrender and face merciful Imperial justice?"

Bel Iblis laughed and shook his head. "I think I'll pass on that, but I was wondering if you would be interested in joining with us? We could use a competent officer such as yourself."

Thrawn seemed to consider the matter and then he replied slowly. "I serve the New Order, not the cause of chaos. I remember the Old Republic and I remember how democracy did not work."

"And a dictatorship does?" Bel Iblis looked to the side and nodded to his ship's captain and then returned to Thrawn. "You seem to misunderstand; I do not want to reestablish the Old Republic."

"The other Rebel leaders seem to have different ideas. I was led to believe that Mon Mothma, before her death, had voiced a desire to return to the old days," Thrawn said, his fingers propping his chin up. "I do not wish to see that occur. In those days, my people were treated…poorly."

Bel Iblis had no idea what Thrawn was talking about because his exact race had not been pinpointed. He made a mental note to get the Rebel historians on it immediately. "Maybe that was what she was after; I'll concede that Bail Organna had the same ideas probably, but the only thing I am concerned with is freeing Corellia."

"Ah, I thought so. Your methods suggested such a thing," Thrawn said, his red eyes flashing. "That will be quite difficult now, don't you think?"

"It won't be easy, but Corellians are a tough bunch…"

"And do you honestly believe that if you were to defeat not only Tarkin, but the Empire, that the new government of the galaxy would allow Corellia to operate independently?" Thrawn almost started laughing. "I am almost tempted to join up to watch the comedic fall of your dream. No, but I think I'll continue to support what I feel is right and correct."

"The Emperor is dead…"

"But I do not serve the man, I serve the ideal. You understand that, do you not?" He could tell that Bel Iblis could and he leaned forward. "There is a chance in this new government that Lord Ravage may see past your past indiscretions."

"Have you spoken with this Lord Ravage? He may be no better than Palpatine and then where will your New Order be?" Bel Iblis was disappointed that Thrawn had not agreed to side with the Rebellion. It would have been a great coup for him and he needed some moral victories right now. Tarkin's little excursion into self-rule had really thrown a hyperspanner into the works. "Can you be so sure that he'll be as tolerant as Palpatine of aliens?"

"That, my dear senator, is why I cannot join with you. In the New Order, I am seen as a useful member; you see me as an alien, a cause. I do not require humans to come to my defense." Thrawn looked away and nodded. "I'm afraid that I must cut this conversation short, senator. I do appreciate the offer, but I'm quite happy where I am."

"I understand, admiral; I am honestly sorry that we don't have more time to discuss our philosophical differences." Bel Iblis leaned forward to sign off, then paused. "By the way, Baron Fel sends his regards."

Thrawn grinned slightly and narrowed his eyes. "You make the game interesting, senator." The transmission then went blank, leaving Bel Iblis alone with his thoughts. Sighing, he turned back to second monitor that was activated. He looked at Wedge and shrugged his shoulders. "It was worth a try. Inform Colonel Fel that he was wrong."

Wedge stiffened as Bel Iblis used Fel's new rank in the Rebel Alliance. It put him very much over Wedge, but Bel Iblis had explained that Fel had real military experience and that counted in the Rebellion. "I will, sir."

Bel Iblis blew out. Wedge was a good man but sometimes very hard to deal with. His Corellian temper normally got the better of him. "Wedge, you need to let it go. This is bigger than your ego."

"Yes sir," Wedge said. "I do understand my orders; I'm just not happy about them."

"Welcome to the military, Commander," Bel Iblis said as he signed off. He then turned to his aide. "Ensign, order the captain to get us back to the fleet."

The young ensign answered in the affirmative and moved to make it happen. At full speed, they should just be able to meet up with Harkov's fleet in the Endor system. Then they would have what they needed to free Corellia.


	31. Chapter 30

Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior

By Christopher W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2003 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2003 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.

**CHAPTER 30**

Boba could hear the party ahead of them as they slowly made their way through the only temple with signs of life. On the outside of it was a makeshift camp that to the untrained eye seemed to show signs of recent use. The bounty hunters had noted that some of the local grasses had started to grow up around some of the equipment that was thrown about, indicating a lack of use.

The real work was being conducted in the largest of the temples, a giant black structure covered in glyphs of a language even Jango couldn't quite identify. Somewhere in its depths, the mysterious alien man was doing something that had attracted the attention of Mara Mothma.

While Boba wanted to strike immediately, Jango was being more cautious, explaining that maybe something could be learned by holding off for a few moments. Together, the two bounty hunters moved along the passageway, their fingers on the triggers of their blaster rifles.

The buzzing in Boba's head had gotten worse the closer he got to the temple, but he figured it might be some sort of radio interference with his helmet. That would explain the voices he was hearing if he was picking up Rebel transmissions. "I don't like this," Boba complained for the hundredth time.

Jango wondered if maybe he should heed his son's advice. Was he purposely going against Boba just to prove he still knew better? Was this the price of middle age and maturity, sitting back and watching as another generation surpassed your accomplishments? "Five more minutes and then we take them all down," he told him.

Boba shook his head and stopped to confront his father on the subject when the floor underneath him opened and he fell. Jango called out his son's name and reached out too late. He stopped and immediately stepped back, expecting Boba to launch the short-range missile in his backpack.

Fifteen seconds passed and he knew something was very wrong. He tried to get his son on their private channel, but the stone of the temple prevented it. Cursing, Jango started running down the passageway where their prey had gone.

Talon heard the footsteps behind them and he half expected to see Chewbacca. That would have been a welcome sight, especially compared to the obsidian stone of the temple. The place was like an ornate tomb; but that was probably true he mused. More than likely they were treading on an ancient burial ground and would be cursed to a thousand deaths for such audacity.

What he saw immediately filled him with dread, but in that split second, he could not understand why. Later, when he had time to reflect on it, he would realize that Mandalorian armor was designed to inspire both fear and awe upon first sight. 

Jango skidded to a stop and brought the blaster rifle up not bothering to adjust the setting. A blue stun field shot out, catching Talon full quarter and sending him spinning onto the cold floor. He was peacefully dreaming before his jaw shattered upon impact.

Threepio let out an alarm and Mara dropped to a defensive crouch, pulling her blaster out and getting a good shot in. The blaster she was carrying though had a bad power pack and the weak bolt was absorbed by Jango's chest plate. "Run Mistress Mara, I shall attempt to cover your exit!" Threepio cried out. The loyal protocol droid, arms raised, purposely put himself into Jango's line of fire.

The bounty hunter didn't have time to deal with an insane droid. Somebody in this temple had his son and Mara Mothma was his only bargaining chip. Resetting the blaster to a higher setting, he fired a quick succession of shots at the droid, effectively cutting him into smaller pieces.

Before the photoreceptors of Threepio died out, Jango was moving again, chasing Mara down another passageway. He said nothing, as he was sure by her rate of movement that he would eventually catch up. She was in good shape, but not fantastic. Being slim and attractive did not mean athletic. 

They moved through and entire concourse of passageways and tunnels, a spider-web of tunnels that wove their way through the temple having no rhyme or reason. Jango wanted to hurry, but he didn't want to take a chance of damaging the merchandise. There were too many bends for him to line up for an accurate shot and he didn't feel like wasting the charge on his blaster rifle.

Mara didn't even bother to look back and she didn't hesitate and Jango got the distinct impression that she knew exactly where she was going, though he would have laid every credit he had down that she had never been in here before. Maybe she was a telepath?

"Very perceptive," a voice bellowed as Jango suddenly entered a grand chamber with a high ceiling. The strange glyphs carved into the stone of the chamber were glowing faintly, a purple shimmer. Jango recognized the glyphs but said nothing. "Yes, bounty hunter, I can read your thoughts," the voice said.

Jango stopped and scanned the room, shifting his helmet visor into infrared. In the corner he saw Mara, standing perfectly still, straight and tall, like a statue. Her eyes were glazed over and he realized she was under some influence that did not seem to affect him.

"You have no Force-sensitivity, Jango Fett," the voice said, "or else I would control you now. As it is I am not strong enough in my current form to bring you under my influence."

"Who are you? Where is my son?"

There was a laugh and Jango saw a side wall fall away and an old woman entered, helping a younger man with one arm limp in. It was the one they had identified as Malakie. "So, you're the voice of a Jedi?" Jango asked, taunting the voice. The glyphs were in the ancient tongue of the Sith, required reading for the Mandalorians of Jango's day. It wasn't until they started glowing that he could actually read them.

"Yes, do read aloud," the voice urged him.

Jango didn't mind because it gave him more time to assess the situation. "'Only through fear can power be maintained'." Jango watched as Gethzerion put her son down on a stone bench. 

"You're a strong one, a mighty warrior," Gethzerion said with a cackle. 

Jango fired and blasted Gethzerion's skull into a thousand pieces. The cloud of burning blood and burnt flesh covered Malakie, but he seemed oblivious. His eyes were wide and Jango guessed he was in shock. Jango called to the voice. "Lost your hands, didn't you Exar Kunn?"

The voice again laughed. Jango didn't like it a bit. Sith were never supposed to be that happy. "Oh, but I've gained so much more, Jango Fett. I'm glad that my name is still remembered after all of these years."

"Don't flatter yourself; it's etched up and down the walls." He walked over to the stupefied Malakie and drew down on him. "It would be a real shame if I killed your apprentice as well."

Malakie's eyes suddenly flashed with recognition, as if a light had been turned on inside his mind. The young man reached for the blaster, but Jango kicked out, catching him in the chest and sent him sprawling across the stone floor. "Mind tricks; is that what the glorious Sith have been reduced to?"

There was no immediate response but it seemed to the bounty hunter that the light within the chamber dimmed. The glyphs lost their hue and a cold wind started blowing through the chamber. Malakie was again out cold and Jango got a good look at the stump of his left arm. It was an unsightly mess of crispy flesh and singled cloth. Only a lightsaber made wounds like that, but the damage seemed too great for a simple cut of the blade.

It was a Wookie strike and Jango, despite the situation, could not help but feel a bit of respect for the one called Chewbacca. His mistress, Mara, remained motionless in the tempest that was starting inside the temple and Jango realized that she was not that important to Exar Kunn. He had been distracted while the Sith Lord went after his real goal.

Boba.

Jango marched against the winds and ejected the power pack from the rifle, slamming a new one home as he stepped over Gethzerion's body. He then activated his armor's internal life support and moved to where the witch and her son had entered.

Before he could reach it, however, the wind stopped and an eerie silence slammed down on the entire area. Jango stopped, convinced he heard something…strange. It was a moan, a gasp of pain and revulsion and he recognized the tone. His son was in front of him in the darkness he was sure. "Boba?" he asked, lowering his blaster rifle.

Boba's form stumbled out of a chamber and Jango noted that there was another entrance to the same chamber in the far wall. Boba looked disoriented, but otherwise seemed fine. "Son, let's go," he ordered.

Boba nodded and then brought his rifle up, pointing it at his father. The voice that spoke sounded like Boba's, but it was Exar Kunn's words that came from the lips. "Thanks, dad, but I'm afraid you won't be coming along."

Jango dropped with the blast of blue fire, his last thoughts before the darkness consumed him was that he was going to kill Exar Kunn.

Exar Kunn lowered the blaster rifle, amazed by the reflexes the body he now inhabited had. If only this perfect specimen had Force talent, he thoughts. It didn't matter, the body of Boba Fett, whose spirit was now trapped in the temple now, would serve him well in the coming months as he put together a plan worthy of the greatest Sith Lords.

He stepped over to Malakie and checked him for a pulse. He was relieved his apprentice still lived, the Sith healing trance he was in would take a few days to completely give him strength back. The boy wanted to succeed so badly and Exar was reminded of himself as a youngster. The arm was a complete loss; there was no way to regrow one for him and Kunn hated using droid parts. "Next time let the Wookie go, Malakie," he whispered.

In the corner was the slumped body of Mara Mothma and Kunn's new body reacted immediately upon spying her tasty form so helpless. Yet, she was Malakie's interest and he certainly had no chance of defeating the Dark Apprentice in the body he had at the moment. 

He patiently waited until she came around, which was only a few minutes later. Before she could even ask where she was, he spoke to her. "Your mother lied to you," he said. "You have powers beyond those of normal humans."

She saw the Mandalorian armor and backed away, reaching for her pistol, but shocked to find it missing. "Tell me, Mara, what are your plans for the future? Will you return to your rebellion? Will you serve the cause of liars and deceivers?"

"I sure as hell won't serve the Empire!" she hissed. She then saw Malakie and without thinking went to him. He was covered in blood and Kunn indicated the dead body of Gethzerion. A shame, really, she would have been so much fun and an old woman always added to the cover story.

"You have special talents, Mara, but how will you learn to use them?"

She held Malakie's head. "See what your ways have done?" she asked, knowing instinctively that the person speaking to her was the mysterious master Malakie had described. "He's hurt!"

"He will grow stronger."

"He could die."

"I haven't."

She couldn't argue with him and she started to cry. For months she had been strong, she had tolerated her mother's demands that she work with Talon Karrde, a man who wanted to bed her more than listen to her. She had learned from a complete stranger that she had inherited something great, something that her mother had tried to hide.

She now knew that her sister wasn't her sister and her father wasn't her father. She was all alone in the universe, except for this young man who had shown her interest above all others. "And what do I get out of all of this?'

Kunn smiled behind his helmet. "You will never be alone again. Through the Dark Side, you will be joined with a powerful legacy. You will never fear again, for ultimate power will be yours. You will know the love of a man who thinks of you as the center of the galaxy.

"I offer you the chance to never feel pain again."

"And all that you want is my soul…"

"A minor thing, you will come to see."


	32. Chapter 31

Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior

By Christopher W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2003 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2003 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.

**CHAPTER 31**

"Welcome Admiral Thrawn," Ravage said as he stepped down from his dais. Behind him, the sun was shining and there was even a flock of birds going by the window. Thrawn had been completely surprised when his fleet had arrived in system to find Imperial Center no longer under martial law.

The new emperor of the New Order had a decidedly different take on leadership than his predecessor did and the changes were almost vivid and lively. The xenophobic attitude that had existed her only weeks before was gone as Lord Ravage instituted reforms that had originally part of the plan for Palpatine's government.

Originally, the New Order was meant to be a government made up of those races that wanted to get rid of the failings of democracy and deal with issues as they happened and not after endless debate. The more conservative members of Palpatine's court, especially Tarkin, had taken that idea so far right that it was now believed that the original intention of the New Order to enslave all non humans.

Thrawn stepped passed the Crimson Guardsman, noting with some satisfaction that they remained constant. The new stormtrooper armor appealed to him as well, giving them a more shadowy appearance. It was a work of art. In fact, the entire planet was becoming one giant masterpiece of art that Thrawn could appreciate. He accepted the extended hand of the new emperor. "I have answered the call as required by my oath," he responded.

Ravage game him a good once-over and looked deep into his pupiless red eyes. "You're a member of the Chiss, correct?" he asked.

Thrawn nodded. "And you are a clone," he replied. Thrawn had done heavy research into the life of Palpatine. Unlike most people in the Empire, he knew what the Emperor had once looked like. "Flash memories, cybernetic education…"

"I see you are familiar with the process," Ravage said, leading Thrawn over to the throne. There were several smaller seats recently put in around it. "But does it really matter?"

"It would to the masses," Thrawn said.

"Ah, but what the masses need right now is assurance and a return to order. My father made the mistake of giving too much power to men of limited potential," Ravage explained as he sat down. Thrawn remained standing. A side door opened and Luke Skywalker stepped in, clad in black armor. Thrawn recognized it as ancient Sith battle wear. "My apprentice returns!" Ravage said with a clap.

Luke stopped and bowed before the emperor and Thrawn was mildly surprised. Lord Ravage had to have put up a good argument to get the Emperor's Fist to change loyalties. "I have word from Endor, my lord."

"Ah, yes, the imminent Rebel attack on the second Death Star," Ravage said, sitting back. He looked over at Thrawn. "I have divined that the Rebels will attempt to steal the entire battle station."

"Admiral Daala has sworn loyalty to Tarkin, my lord," Luke said. There was disgust in his voice as he said Tarkin's name. "She appreciated your warning but advised that you should prepare for the day Tarkin comes to take the throne."

"You did not seriously think she would change loyalties?" Thrawn asked. "Tarkin managed to put his officers in charge of the most secret projects the Empire was developing."

Ravage said nothing but smiled and Thrawn was reminded of Palpatine in the beginning of the Empire. This was someone who was sure of themselves, confident and arrogant. There was something else as well. "What would be your read of the tactical situation, Admiral? I'd like to see if your analysis matches my own."

It was a test, Thrawn realized, and he caught the sign of a small smile on Luke's lips as Ravage ordered him to rise. The boy looked like a man suddenly and Thrawn had to wonder if his theory about the Emperor using the Dark Side of the Force to link the soldiers of the Empire to himself. 

"The second Death Star is a loss. We have neither the ships nor officers to take it from Tarkin's control. The best we can hope for is that it somehow gets destroyed when the Rebels try to take it." Thrawn waited to see of there were any comments and when there weren't he continued. "Even if the Rebels fail, the second Death Star will not be finished for at least another three years. Our main concern is the Death Star over Corellia."

"And Tarkin's problem appears to be that he can't get the Corellians to cooperate with him," Luke added.

"Young Skywalker is absolutely correct. Tarkin made the mistake of thinking that because Corellia is controlled by humans, humans who share some xenophobic attitudes with him, that they would accept his rule. The only thing you should assume about Corellians is that they will disagree with anyone." Thrawn turned and cast a glance again outside. "You seem to have learned something from that, Lord Ravage. There is something in the air on Imperial Center, a renewed sense of direction."

"Thanks to my father," Ravage said as he examined his fingernails, "the Empire has lost half of its worlds. That is half of its people. Half of its revenue. It is not the time to engage in a civil war."

"The Rebels don't see it that way," Thrawn told him. 

"A minor problem compared to a military genius with a planet-destroying laser," Ravage countered. 

Thrawn had to agree. "The only good thing out of this is that the Rebels have two enemies now. Tarkin will never ally with them."

"Which brings me to my problem," Ravage told him and he beckoned Luke to step up next to them. "My goal is to restore the Empire, but it cannot be done through military means only." Ravage reached out used the Force to grab a remote control from across the room. Palpatine never displayed his abilities in public so. Thrawn wondered if Ravage represented Palpatine's true personality or was he someone entirely different. Was that even possible? "I need a military man who understands this."

"I thought the way of the Sith was rule through fear and force. Study their art and culture…"

"Yes, look at how their methods, their cultural personae have led them to this point. I intend to change all of that. My young apprentice is the first new warrior of a mighty Sith regime that will rule through order. We will not enslave those who disagree with us; we will destroy them. We will embrace all who wish to kneel before us and we will eradicate those who won't." Ravage threw his head back and gave a hearty laugh. "The Sith will arise again and all of the malcontents will be swept away."

Thrawn only nodded and looked over to Luke. "And, if I may ask, is your opinion of all of this?"

Luke looked to Ravage and Thrawn guessed they were communicating telepathically. "Too much time has been wasted on super-weapons, political intrigue and the like. The people need to be shown the benefits of the Sith way. Through the Sith, we will become a single family and we will control the galaxy. Disorder and chaos will be removed and we will extend the New Order to even beyond this galaxy!"

Thrawn considered his response for a moment. "You wish then to increase the size of the Empire even while it is shrinking? An audacious plan." Ravage agreed and then reiterated that he needed a military commander.

"I need someone who is not close-minded like Tarkin, for if our way of life is to survive…"

"You require an alien then?" Thrawn asked. 

"No," Ravage said coldly. "I require someone who can get the job done. I require someone of your caliber. My father saw your potential, but his reliance on his courtiers and sycophants robbed him of the courage needed to keep the New Order safe. My father was too obsessed with his pet projects; he lost sight of the goal."

Thrawn locked his hands at the small of his back. "What is the goal?"

"I will reestablish the Sith Empire. I will bring sweet dark order to the galaxy." Ravage crossed his arms over his chest. "I want you to be the Warlord of the Empire. You will have absolute authority in all military matters, excluding anything I might personally deem appropriate."

"You see, Warlord Thrawn," Luke said, giving the admiral the chance to hear the title. "Our lord will handle the political end, you will handle military matters and I…" Luke gave an evil smirk. "I will deal with any special problems that arise."

"What about Tarkin?" Thrawn asked. 

Ravage waved it off. "I wouldn't worry about him right now. In fact, he could be a boon for us. His presence in the Corellian system will split the Rebellion in two and his humans-only attitude will show the other races the benefits of remaining within the New Order." He then activated the remote control and a holographic wire frame representation of the Corellian system appeared. The Death Star looked so very small against the backdrop of the five planets of the system. "So long as Tarkin remains in the Corellian system, he leaves himself vulnerable."

"I don't understand," Thrawn said, narrowing his eyes. As far as he knew of, the Death Star was the ultimate weapon of the Empire. There were other weapons, of course, rumors of one that could actually destroy stars, but nothing Thrawn had ever seen could match the raw power of the Death Star.

Though Ravage could not read Thrawn's mind, he understood the thoughts that were racing through it. It had been Luke who had told Ravage about the alien admiral and recommended him for the position. "Rest assured, the answers will become evident soon enough."

"And the second Death Star?"

"A lost cause. It will not be saved." He sighed and turned to regard Thrawn. "I need your answer, admiral." Thrawn realized then that his life depended on his decision. He wasn't too concerned, as he would have remained with Lord Ravage regardless. Thrawn still believed in the New Order and his hope was that Ravage did as well. The offer of the promotion was unexpected, however. He had fully expected to either be executed regardless or else sent back out into the unknown. 

"Of course, I accept," Thrawn said. "So long as we understand that I serve the New Order and not the throne. You have my respect as head of the Empire, but I also know you only got there because of the failings of your predecessor, not your own accomplishments."

Ravage shook his head. "It is a shame you don't have Force-ability; such arrogance would do well for the Sith." He returned to his throne. "I accept your conditions, Warlord Thrawn. Now, go and organize what military I have left."

Thrawn bowed his head and exited quickly, no indication in his walk whether or not he was happy about his new position. Luke looked to his master. "Forgive my ignorance, but shouldn't we have told him about the secret of the Corellian system? Shouldn't he know about the planet moving devices there?'

"In time he will know," Ravage said. "In time, all will know that the Sith have risen again."


	33. Epilogue 1

Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior

By Christopher W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2003 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2003 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.

**EPILOGUE 1**

"What have you observed today my padawan learner?" Quinlan Vos asked, his eyes closed. A few meters away a sweating Corran Horn looked into the small campsite where a woman sat looking into a fire.

He wanted to tell his master that he had discovered that redemption required a heavy payment and it was usually traded in pieces of one's soul. Padme Amidala had said nothing since she had been brought here, yet her sad eyes told a story that tore at Corran's heartstrings.

A little further away, Leia sat alone as well in deep meditation and it wouldn't surprise Corran if she and Quinlan Vos were not communicating through the Force. The exact situation surrounding the destruction of what had been Darth Deceptra had not been revealed to Corran, but he did understand that Kyp had something to do with it. For days after they had returned to Dagobah, Kyp had been put through the mental wringer by Quinlan and Ferrin and in the end, it was decided that the title of Jedi Knight was to be conferred upon him.

There was little ceremony, but Corran could not help but feel slighted that the teenager was now a rank above him. In theory, Quinlan could assign Corran, or worse, Leia, as Kyp's padawan. Luckily, that had not happened. Instead, Ferrin and Kyp had left, saying that they needed to join up with the Rebel Alliance. There was also some talk about returning to Tatooine.

"I've learned that it seems like in the old days, the padawans did all of the work and the masters sat around and got fat," Corran said. Quinlan's eyes opened slowly and he gave his student a wry look. Corran shrugged. "I mean I'm the one who is sweating."

"A true Jedi does not sweat," Quinlan said. He then noted Corran's gaze. "You wonder about the former senator from Naboo?"

Corran shrugged again and sat down on a rock. "I don't even know where Naboo is at. It's just that…she doesn't seem very evil to me."

"The Dark Side can taint in many ways," Quinlan said. His own experiences several decades before had taught him that lesson the hard way. Even today, so many years later, he could feel the slight tug of the darkness calling to him, promising him power beyond his wildest dreams. "It is most difficult when one crosses over not out of personal desire for power, but out of love. Her great love was a complex man; a man that life had treated very unfair. That we treated unfairly."

"Have you tried to talk to her?" Corran asked.

"There is nothing to say; the time for words is over and done with. Now is the time for action. In centuries past, different philosophies dictated a variety of ways of atonement for a fallen Jedi." He sighed and stood up, tightening the sash on his robes. "The problem is that Padme Amidala was never a Jedi. She has very little Force-ability, but with the sliver of the Kaiburr Crystal she had great power. She is naked now and it is not a comfortable feeling I am sure."

Together, padawan and master walked over to the campfire. Padme sat there, her features as youthful as Quinlan remembered them. The extensive operations she had undergone during her service to the Empire had kept her young. In fact, she and Leia looked more like sisters than mother and daughter.

"I bid you good morning, senator," Quinlan said with a bow. Corran tried to do the same, but his looked forced. "Contemplating the future?"

"Dissecting the past, Master Vos," Padme said quietly. Corran noted that she was holding the hilt of a lightsaber as she stared into the flames. "I feel as if I am still falling into a hole."

Leia exited her tent, clad in her athletic uniform, once again ready to start her morning run. She stepped up to Corran and kissed him on the cheek. In the old days, Quinlan remembered, such a thing would have been forbidden. Both Ferrin and he had decided to try a more liberal approach to Jedi training. "Good morning, mother," Leia said.

Her attitude towards Padme had been so very strange, Corran thought, but nobody was explaining anything to him. All he understood was that Kyp Durron had suddenly opened up to the Force and everyone who had been there was changed.

Padme returned the greeting, but didn't look up. The shame that she felt for trying to turn her own daughter to the Dark Side was only overshadowed by the loss she currently felt for losing her son. She had been forced to abandon Luke by an act of conscience and now she wanted to figure out a way to save him.

In her dreams, Anakin called out to her, begging her to go after Luke and save him from a new threat. Lord Ravage was that threat, but then Luke warned of another, something more dangerous. Because her link to the Force was so weak that she could not maintain the contact with her dead husband. She was thankful for what she had now, though; her return from the Dark Side had opened this new form of communication up to her. In the Force, she was rediscovering the things that had once brought her true pleasure.

"Have you decided your future yet?" Quinlan asked. Leia put her arm through Corran's, gaining support from his powerful arms. He had put on several kilos of muscle mass in his time on Dagobah, eating the strange meats Quinlan liked to prepare.

Padme looked into the sky and then looked at her daughter. "Tatooine has changed and it needs real leadership. I was thinking about returning there, continuing the work Anakin started. He had a real love for that world." She looked at Leia. "Will you be coming?"

Leia didn't know how to answer. "What about my brother?"

"Your brother will eventually come to us," she said and Corran felt his lover shiver. Padme continued. "Right now, he's figuring out what he's going to do. Luke is very driven and he wants nothing more than to impress a father figure. I had secretly hoped that Baron Fel…" Her voice trailed off as the guilt she felt for having arranged the murder of Fel's wife threatened to send her spiraling down into the emotional depression she had been in for weeks. Would she ever be able to face him? 

When she did, would he kill her? "I can't stay here."

Quinlan nodded. "The fires of democracy are being lit in the galaxy. The Force is in turmoil and this is a good thing. Perhaps the former desert world is where the revolution will truly start."

"I was once sworn to uphold the ideals of the Republic. I want to do it again," she said.

"Pardon me, senator," Corran said, giving Leia's hand a squeeze, "but what makes you think that the people of Tatooine will accept you as their leader?'

"Because my mother is technically the queen of the planet. My father was ruler; the title was never taken away," Leia responded. "I'd like to go with you, but I want to continue my Jedi training."

Quinlan shrugged. "We could all go." Corran's face lit up and the Jedi master chuckled under his breath. "I think it would be a good place to start a new Jedi academy. Master Durron and perhaps young Kyp will be able to find other students."

"And my personal fleet can help protect the planet," Padme said. The Death's Head Squadron had remained loyal to the commander that had protected it during the many purges instituted by the Emperor. "They are willing to join the Rebellion, so long as they can retain their rank. But, that is something for me to discuss with Garm Bel Iblis."

"Which brings us to a problem," Quinlan started. "If we do start an academy, we'll need some more instructors." He looked at Padme. "I will require your aid."

"I'm no Jedi," she said. 

"Ah, but you are an expert on the Dark Side. The new Jedi Order will need to be made aware of the dangers that my peers chose to ignore." Quinlan stepped over to a cooking pot and looked inside, grimacing. He was tired of jungle food. 

"Aren't we jumping ahead of ourselves?" Leia asked. "You have two students, a former Dark Lord and a Jedi master with a penchant for bad food…"

"And passing wind," Corran added with a smile.

"Ah, a padawan with a sense of humor. You remind of young Obi-Wan Kenobi. He was a serious student who had a tendency to make a joke at the most inopportune times." Quinlan sighed. "These are all things we will discuss on our way I suppose."

Corran was visibly relieved. He knew that Leia desired to get close to her mother, telling him in whispered conversation that Darth Deceptra was not the same person as Padme Amidala. She wanted to know about her heritage, though her heart ached for the loss of Bail Organna.

And Alderaan.

Tarkin's forces had assumed control of the planet and its wealth, chasing off the token Imperial garrison. Alderaan was lost for now, but only for the moment. Leia swore that she would return and for a brief instant, she had reminded Corran of Garm Bel Iblis.

"Good," Quinlan said when nobody objected. "We must break camp and get up to the fleet."

Hours later, Leia stood at a large viewing window on the medical deck of the frigate _Merciless_. The fleet had yet to be renamed to something less sinister, but she was sure that by the time they reached Tatooine, it would be done.

Tatooine was now a paradise, but a secret one. From there they hoped to from one pincer of the two-pronged advance to push Tarkin and the Empire out of the galaxy. Then the Republic could be reformed and Bail Organna's dream would come true.

There was resentment in her heart towards both her mother and her adopted father. Then there was sadness about Mara and Mon Mothma, two people she should have been close to, but ironically barely knew. Mara was with the Rebels, going who knew where and Chandrilla was gone.

Corran stepped up behind her and put his arms around her waist. He was a sweet man, though she wished he were just a little more…roguish perhaps? While Corran was a good man, sometimes a girl wanted a bad boy. Somebody like Dash…

She sighed and fell back against Corran's chest. She was lucky that the former CorSec officer cared for and she knew it. She was a princess from an occupied world, the daughter of two of the most evil people ever to be born. Yet, they were also two of the most tragic.

Then there was her brother.

"Luke," she whispered. 

In her mind, through the Force, she could have sworn she heard laughing.


	34. Epilogue 2

Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior

By Christopher W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2003 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2003 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.

**EPILOGUE 2**

"The Rebel Fleet was defeated at Endor, though it wasn't destroyed," Mara said as she examined the news story on the small computer screen. "According to this, a secret Imperial project was destroyed as well by forces loyal to…" She read the title again and gave a small laugh. "Prefect Tarkin…'Lord of the Tarkin Confederacy'."

"This Tarkin sounds very ambitious for a mere _human_," Exar said as he examined his youthful features in the mirror. The olive colored skin and black wavy hair was different from his former features, but his original body had been reduced to dust thousands of years before. "Boba Fett did not trust him."

"Boba Fett, I assume from all that you have said, did not trust anyone," Malakie said. He wore a black uniform with the left sleeve buttoned up to the shoulder. The color had returned to his face and he looked reasonably healthy, with the exception of his missing left arm. "I suppose then that this rebellion against authority is over with?'

Mara shook her head and continued to read. "It says that Fleet Admiral Daala ran the Rebels off, but there is no mention of an overwhelming victory. I really would not count them out."

Exar replaced the Mandalorian helmet on his head. He liked this body; it was a real shame it had no Force potential at all. That was only a minor setback. "Speaker Tarvis will be here soon," he announced.

"I suppose you want us to leave?" Malakie asked. Exar had attended several private meetings since they had arrived on this world, a planet that Mara could not even find on the star charts. Exar had explained that it was a world that had been known to him in his day, but that it was also surprisingly familiar to the Fett's. This was where they would spend the next few months, recuperating and formulating their plans.

"If you wouldn't mind, my apprentice. Besides, you need to practice with your new weapons," the Dark Lord explained. Malakie had thrown himself even harder into his studies since awakening from his healing trance. The loss of Gethzerion had affected the young man somewhat, but the trade-off had been he had started bedding the scarlet temptress Mara. Exar would have given up his grandmother, mother and children for such a thing!

Malakie removed the single glove from his right hand, revealing a metallic gauntlet that was fingerless. "I was most pleased with your decision to arm me this way, master."

"It is a most ancient of Sith weapons, developed for the limb-impaired," Exar replied with a smirk from behind the helmet. 

"Ah, more of your crude humor. I wish I could find something in which to reply with, but I wouldn't want to be disrespectful." There was a small snapping sound and three thin half-meter long emerald blades rose from Malakie's fist. "I mean, with no way to reach out to the Force, you are at a disadvantage."

The arrogance in his apprentice's voice brought pure joy to Exar's heart. He needed a warrior apprentice that was not just sure of his ability, but could overcome any obstacle thrust in his way. "Leave me now, so I may conduct the negotiations," Exar said as the door chime played. 

Malakie deactivated his weapon and accepted Mara's hand and the two exited the stark white confines of the apartment through a side door. Outside, a storm raged, but on this world, they always did. Exar called for the visitor to enter.

Speaker Tarvis was a small human, a rare sight on this world, especially given his position within the government here. "Greetings Boba Fett," Tarvis said with a small bow. He wore the traditional robes of Kamino citizens.

Boba bowed as well. "I am honored by your patronage."

"Taun We sends her greetings," Tarvis replied. Taun We had been a minor functionary decades before when Jango Fett had been approached to become the original donor for the clone army of the Republic. She had taken a special interest in the child Boba Fett and now that she was running her own cloning facility, she was a very unexpected ally in Exar's master plan.

Tarvis cut straight to the heart of the matter, as was the fashion in these talks. "Your sample, though burned along the edges, has viable DNA. We can create the clone body that you have requested."

"And the midi-chlorian levels?'

The Speaker smiled. "Thanks to the efforts of benefactors such as the former Emperor, we have refined our techniques in creating Jedi clones. We can manipulate the midi-chlorians to levels you requested, but it will require extra payment."

"I see," Exar said as eh folded his arms over his chest. "What would be acceptable payment?"

"It has been suggested that the one-armed man with you is of special parentage," Tarvis started. "Is this true?"

Exar caught on immediately. They wanted to do something that was only dreamt of in his day and if they could do it, it would be the most fantastic feat of genetic engineering ever. "You are correct. His father was Darth Maul."

"Indeed! A fine specimen, but there is a problem. We would require the a sample from the mother…"

Exar walked over to a clothing storage locker and opened it. After looking through it, he found what he wanted and pulled it out. He then walked over and presented the dark uniform to Tarvis. "It is covered with his mother's blood."

He examined the dried blood spots and flaky pieces of gore and nodded. Exar continued to speak. "I didn't realize that genetic legacy cloning had been perfected."

"We had a breakthrough two years ago, but we haven't had a challenge such as this presented to us. If we are successful, then imagine what we could do."

The man in the armor nodded. "I do indeed wish you luck. So, how long before the body is ready?"

"Your manipulated clone? I fail to see why you would want a clone with Force-ability, but it is your business. It will take five years to grow it to twenty standard years of physical age."

He nodded and began to tune out Tarvis as he went over the specifics of his plan. Five years he would have to spend here, but then after that, the galaxy would be his.

"Don't try to speak," Jango said as he worked over the small stove. The air was filled with the smells of exotic plants, marsh gases and decay. Jango didn't seem to mind and he sidestepped the medical droid as it made a few adjustments to the patient.

Jango continued to speak as he sipped at his soup. "We're on a jungle world in the Corporate Sector, at my private estate. It took us about a week to get here and you're damn lucky that I have training in advanced life support."

The patient said nothing and the 2-1-B droid scooted around the table and reached an arm out. As it made some fine adjustments, Jango's narrative went on. "You've been in a coma for six months while the droids worked on you. You are damn lucky to be alive."

Chewbacca gave a small growl and realized why he had been told to not speak. His throat was raw and the effort had nearly sent him back into the blissful sleep he had been enjoying. He remembered his fight with Malakie and after that nothing.

"He cut your arms off," Jango said. "You didn't lose any blood, but your nervous system suffered a tremendous shock. You've lost about half of your body weight, but my cook will fatten you up soon enough."

A Gammorean dressed in white with a chef's hat walked in and grabbed the soup pot from the small stove and began cursing at Jango, motioning to the kitchen proper that was up the stairs. Jango responded in the growls and belches of the pig-creature's language. 

When the cook finally left, Jango started addressing Chewbacca again. "I'm offering you the chance for revenge. Malakie took your arms and your mistress, his master took my son. You owe me a life debt."

Chewbacca rolled his head to the side, his blue eyes looking to the stumps where his arms had been. They widened immediately as he saw massive bionic limbs encased in durasteel. "Top of the line from Hapan cyborg factories. I'll spend every credit I ever made to kill that son of a nerf-herder. I don't care about the Rebellion, or Tarkin or the Empire. I'm an old man now and I need help."

Chewbacca flexed the arm the droid was working on and he actually felt the fingers close. There was incredible power in the limb, the power of hate and the power of vengeance. He turned back to Jango but didn't say anything. "Debate it all that you want, but in the end I will expect your help."

Chewbacca nodded and the effort strained his weakened body and the Wookie passed out. Jango looked to the droid who informed him that Chewbacca was fine and that it was to be expected. The bounty hunter nodded and then moved to go up the stairs, dark thoughts permeating his mind.

Thoughts of pain and death and the reign of terror that he would bring down on those who took his son away.

End


End file.
